


Fiona

by lasairfhiona



Series: Fiona Saga [5]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-22
Updated: 2011-04-22
Packaged: 2017-10-18 12:24:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/188862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lasairfhiona/pseuds/lasairfhiona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An immortal comes to Seacouver and shakes things up....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fiona

Reunion and Beyond

Paris 1996

Fiona was so glad to see Methos, she decided to stay with him for a week so they could get reacquainted. It was good to spend time with him again. Just being together again after three hundred years, reminded her how much she missed his company, even when he was being an unreasonable ass, as he was known to be in the past. Their feelings, while changing in intensity, never diminished completely with the passing of time. How could they, when they had spent the better part of six hundred years together as friends and lovers? Their reunion a few days earlier had proven that. As she twisted the ring on her thumb, Fiona contemplated the fact they had been even been more than that at one time.

They toured Paris together. Even though she was as familiar with modern Paris as she was with her home in London, it was still fun to do it together and reminisce about the last time they were there and how things had changed. Fiona made one stop Methos hadn't expected, Darius's Chapel. She went in to light a candle and say a prayer to his Christian god for his acceptance. He was truly worthy of their blessing. Her lack of belief in Christianity had not stopped her friendship with Darius. In fact, the old priest had been willing to overlook her Paganism because of her belief in peace and her work to bring it about. As a priest he couldn't condone her pagan beliefs, but the man inside, who'd once known more than the priesthood, knew there were things that could be forgiven if the motives of the person were true. Darius knew Fiona's belief in peace would be her salvation with his god. Methos watched her with fascination and realized just how much she'd changed, there was a depth to her he hadn't seen before. She'd always been a very spiritual person with a sense of peace about her but now she seemed even more focused. Maybe he was just noticing something that had always been there and he'd been too blinded by their passion to see the depth of it before.

"I don't know, Fee," Methos said as they exited the chapel, "I see the woman I knew and loved, yet there is more, an intensity I was either too blind to see then or is new."

"It's both. I've traveled a lot, I've lived within cultures that were peaceful and strove to find that inner peace and I've lived in places and times of war and death where my healing arts were needed. I learned we need to find peace and I strive to teach it to others as Darius did, I just do it in a different way."

"How do you keep the balance between peace and what we have to do to survive in this maddening Game?" he asked.

"The Game is about survival of the fittest, you know that better than all of us. It is one the most basic laws of nature. Is there any reason for it? I don't know the answer to that any more then you did when I asked you almost thousand years ago. I don't regret the heads I've taken that have enabled me to sustain the 1556 years I've walked this earth. But I still don't like the concept of war and the dominance of one over another. If I fight, I fight for freedom and I heal those I can along the way. It still gives me nightmares, though."

"So where have you been for the past three hundred years?" Methos wondered as they walked along, stopping long enough to buy her a rose from a vendor on the street.

"I've traveled a lot, the jungles of South America and the Orient mainly, learning their healing arts from the Shamans of the ancient peoples who still live there. Oh, I'd come back to Paris every generation or so and share my learning's with Darius and return home to Ireland. I returned for good in the early 1900's and have only ventured back to the jungles a few times."

They continued to talk of what she had learned and where she traveled, as they walked arm in arm down the Champ Elysees. To anyone watching them, they looked like any ordinary couple out enjoying the sights. Fiona noticed a sadness as he would pass some of the more popular landmarks. He would look at them almost wistfully as if he was remembering something else, but he never said anything when she asked. She knew when he had worked through what was bothering him he would talk to her. He always did.

One night after making love they were laying intertwined, "Methos, I have to leave soon, I need to get back to London and finish some business and then I have to go to the states."

"Fee, I..."

"Shhh, Old Man, we will see each other again soon. It's not going to be three hundred years before we meet again."

"How is it you always seem to know what I'm going to say before I say it?" he asked, smiling.

"Because I know you. I'll make sure to leave you with my solicitor's address in London so you will always know where to find me. It won't be like the last time I left you. I've grown up a lot since then."

He chuckled at her comment. He could see she was different but there was still plenty of the woman he'd fallen head over heels in love with nearly a millennia ago. In fact, if he was not still mourning Alexa, he could see himself falling in love with this woman all over again, if he'd ever really fallen out of love with her. It just changed. Their love tempered with time, became comfortable, but still there never the less, he was certain he would always hold her in his heart whether they would remain lovers or friends in the future.

The next morning, Fiona made arrangements to leave the following day.

Methos watched from the bedroom door as she made her plans. He was having a tough time seeing her as the woman she was now. He was still caught up in the woman she was in the 17th century when she'd left him and tore his heart out. He knew from the past several days they'd spent together that she truly was different but he also knew it would take him some time to adjust to that fact.

They spent their last day together by going out of Paris and traveling around the country side. Methos was taking her to an inn that he knew. They had a quiet romantic lunch and a stroll through the gardens of the inn before heading back to Paris and to bed.

Fiona left in the morning, hailing a cab to the airport instead of letting Methos take her. She hated good-byes. Being who she was she was always saying good-bye to someone and now she avoided them at all costs.

London

Fiona arrived home shortly before Tea. It was still hard to believe she'd just spent the last week with Methos. She had spent the last couple hundred years believing he'd finally been taken when no one had heard of any of his usual aliases and "Methos" had become a myth no one believed ever really existed. Yet there he was, alive and well and in some obvious pain. She wished with all her heart she could help him but he'd always been one to carry his pain deep inside. And sharing only happened when he was good and ready.

She made preparations for her business trip to the United States. She had a "brother" who ran a breeding farm in New Hampshire and she wanted to check on the foals from this year and make a decision about which of the yearlings would go to Kentucky for the big spring sale. She wasn't sure if she'd be making an extended stay or not but chances are once she got there and started playing with the foals she'd stay so she packed a couple of her trunks and made arrangements for closing the house here in London for a while. She had to talk to Connor again about the other sword and see if he had any ideas about how to find it.

Connor had been the one to locate her sword in an auction 10 years ago. She could remember the day he'd called, telling her he'd found her sword, as if it was yesterday.

****

NewYork 1986

"Fiona Roberts, please," Connor asked the person who answered the phone.

"May I ask who's calling, sir?"

"Tell her Connor MacLeod and I've found something she's lost," he said, chuckling into the phone.

"Sir, I'm sorry but, Miss. Roberts is indisposed at the moment. Can I take your name and number and have her return your call?"

"Most certainly not! Tell her to get to the phone, or I'll shoot her horse." Connor knew the old threat of shooting her horse would get her to the phone fast. He had only to wait a few minutes before she picked up an extension phone.

"Connor, you got me from the tub. What's going on?"

"Ha! I knew the 'shoot your horse' would get you to the phone. Get a good grip on the towel or you'll end up flashing the crotchety old houseman of yours."

"Connor! Quit making jokes."

"All right, but don't say I didn't warn you... I found it."

"Found what?"

"The sword, Fiona, the sword. You know the carved one with your name on it. The one you've been driving me crazy about ever since you got it in your head to look for it."

Connor was met with silence on the other end.

"Fiona, you still there?"

"Mine or his, Connor? Or both?"

"Yours. It just needs a good cleaning but it's otherwise in good condition. Are you going to be in New York any time soon? I'll hold it till you get here or I can ship it."

"No, Connor, I'll come to New York. I'll call you with my flight in an hour or so. And Connor, this had better not be one of your practical jokes."

"Fiona, I may like to harass you but trust me, my friend, this is no joke. I really have it, and I will make sure it's spit polished when you get here."

"Connor... thank you."

"Anytime, my friend, any time."

 

Fiona's flight to New York from Heathrow was uneventful. She used the time to reflect on the few days she'd just spent with Methos and to wonder where, if anywhere, they would go from here. She had no doubt of her feelings for him even after all these centuries; he would always hold a piece of her heart there was no way for them to have spent the time together that they had and for her not to still feel something for him and continue to do so even if friendship was all they had left for one another. They had decided when she left Paris they would keep in touch and see where they went from there knowing they would have to rediscover each other again.

She rented a car at JFK and drove into the city. Finding Connor's shop on Hudson Street was always a challenge for her so she ended up circling a few times until she found the right one way street that would take here where she wanted to be. London, Paris, or Vienna didn't confuse her as much as driving in New York City.

She managed to find the shop just before noon. She walked in just as Rachel was about to put the 'Closed for Lunch' sign in the window.

"Hi Rachel."

"Why, Fiona, it's good to see you again. I'll let Connor know it's you."

"Connor already knows," said a masculine voice from the stair case, "Hello Fiona, what brings you to the city?"

"Well I'm not here for you to shoot a horse," she said looking up a slightly disheveled Connor who gave the appearance of having just crawled from bed.

Connor laughed at the old joke as he came down the stairs and embraced Fiona.

Rachel looked on, confused. "Should I even ask?" There were some things she didn't want to know the story behind but when it came to Connor and Fiona she had a feeling it would be an interesting one.

"It's a long story, Rachel. Suffice to say when Fiona and I met we had a problem with our horses and I suggested I shoot hers to solve the problem. We never did shoot the horse, and we ended up with a beautiful filly the following spring," Connor told her, grinning.

"It's now become a standard joke with us and gets used to death when we get together, especially if we haven't seen each other for a while." Fiona added.

Rachel looked relieved at the happy ending to the story. She accompanied them to Connor's apartment above the shop. The three of them had lunch together and Rachel listened on while Fiona and Connor got caught up. They traded stories of friends they'd seen and places they'd been. Rachel was enthralled listening to Connor and Fiona. They seemed to enjoy teasing each other. Soon the conversation turned to why Fiona was in town.

"Connor, I want to start the search for the other sword again."

"I was afraid you were going to say that. I'll start checking around again, for you, but I haven't heard of anybody doing any trading of weapons especially of the caliber you're looking for. What brings on this new interest?"

"He's still alive and I've found him again. Now I want to find his sword and give it to him of for no other reason than for sentiments sake."

"He's one lucky son of a bitch, to have a woman like you Fiona. Not many women would do this for a man, especially not one she hasn't seen for how many centuries? Still not talking about who he is?"

"Connor, you know better than that," she reprimanded, shaking a finger at him.

"Yeah, I know but I couldn't resist asking again. Who knows maybe you'll tell me someday. And it's not as if I could read the ancient Gaelic anyway. Now if it were in a Scottish dialect maybe, but that Irish..." he teased.

"Now Connor..." she tried to threaten, but ended up laughing instead.

Rachel returned to the shop leaving the two immortals to continue their discussion. Connor promised to check with his contacts for Fiona and see if they had anything he could use.

Fiona stayed a week in New York then left Connor to do the checking while she tended to the business she'd come to the US for in the first place. She'd planned on returning to New York in about a month. With any luck, Connor would have something to tell her by then.

Fiona's return to New York was as uneventful as her first arrival a month earlier, only this time she was met by Rachel.

"Connor said you hate to drive in the city so I offered to pick you up."

"Rachel, you're a doll. Thank you." Another drive through the city was the last thing she had been looking forward to doing.

"Connor ran to Chicago and he'll be back tomorrow, but he left theater tickets for us for tonight," Rachel mentioned.

"Ohhh, what did he get us tickets for?" Fiona asked excited.

"Miss Saigon."

"Oh wonderful... I haven't seen it yet."

Fiona and Rachel enjoyed a wonderful evening out, thanks to Connor. They were still talking about the play the next morning at brunch when Connor walked in. Like two giddy school girls, they replayed the events of their evening out for him, giving him a detailed description of the play. He got caught up in their excitement, smiling at the youthfulness he saw in Rachel's eyes again. Fiona was good to have around if it brought out this side of Rachel, she was his family save for his kinship with Duncan.

Rachel excused herself a while later so she could get the shop open for afternoon antiquers. Fiona and Connor discussed the sword and what he'd found or not found.

"Fiona I really think you should go see Duncan and see what he has to say. I know he has sources I don't have and maybe he can turn up something."

"Whatever you think, Connor. I just want to find this sword. Will you call him to let him know I'm coming and that I'm safe?"

Connor laughed, "You're safe, just as long as he keeps his mares stabled."

"Oh you... stop." Fiona laughed, throwing her crumpled napkin at him.

"Don't worry just tell him I sent you and he can call me to confirm it."

Fiona made her arrangements to get to Seacouver. She was lucky and got a flight for the following day with only one stopover.

Seacouver

Duncan and Richie were sparring, moving across the dojo floor in an intricate dance. Richie's technique was getting better as a result of the practice sessions with Mac. This time Mac was drilling him continuously on a move he wanted Richie to perfect since it was one that could save his life. Both men were covered with sweat and in the middle of yet another sequence when the sensation of another immortal hit. Stopping, they waited for the source of the buzz to appear. Expecting it to be one of their friends they were surprised a petite woman walk through the door. She was barely five feet tall with long black hair pulled back in a braid that down her back and dressed casually in leggings and a large faded denim shirt hanging almost to her knees.

She smiled. "Gentlemen. I am looking for Duncan MacLeod," she said in a low voice.

"That would be me. What can I do for you?" Duncan acknowledged moving toward her, his sword lowered. "And who would you be?"

"A friend of Connor's, he sent me hoping you'd be able to help me locate an item since his sources have come up dry," she explained.

"Funny, I just spoke to Connor and he didn't say anything about sending anyone to me."

"Call him and ask. I was just with him yesterday. Tell him Fiona is here," she said with a shrug, figuring nothing would be done today anyway. She's waited this long another day of inactivity wouldn't hurt.

"Maybe I will." Mac still wasn't sure what was going on but he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt knowing his kinsman as he did Connor probably purposely didn't tell him she was coming.

She smiled, looking at the younger man. "Hi, I'm Fiona Roisin, and you are?"

Richie stepped forward and held out his hand, "Richie Ryan, glad to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, Richie."

Once the brief introductions were finished, Duncan guided her to the lift and headed up to the loft, calling for Richie to join them after he showered. Duncan let Fiona wonder around the loft as he went for a shower himself. He felt it was fairly safe to leave her alone. She obviously wasn't carrying a sword but he brought his along with him anyway. Connor wouldn't send someone to him he didn't trust, but Duncan wasn't about to take a chance.

She walked around fingering the objects from his past, some were similar to pieces she had in her collection others she wondered what the history some of the pieces were. She smiled, thinking of the things she'd seen in Methos's place just a few months earlier. These two might like each other, if only she could introduce them. Methos has always been so reclusive that bringing him to meet another immortal might be next to impossible. Even thought she loved him, she wanted to be out in the world living, not hidden away, and he seemed to be in hiding yet again.

Duncan came out of the bathroom and stood quietly watching her, wondering what she was thinking as she stared at a stone statue. Just what was Connor up to, sending her to him? He'd definitely have to call him later.

"Can I get you some coffee?" he asked, moving through the room.

Duncan's question brought her out of her reverie and she looked up at him. She noticed he'd changed into a pair of worn jeans and a shirt, which he'd left untucked.

"I'd prefer a glass of wine if you have some," she told him, she moved to take a seat in the leather wingback chair.

Duncan served her the wine, and poured a glass for himself before sitting on the sofa.

"Okay, so why did Connor send you?" Duncan asked, his curiosity winning out.

"So, you believe me?"

"Let's just say I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, for now."

She laughed. "Connor said you would."

"Touche'." he said, with a smile and a nod.

"Seriously though, I've known Connor for a little over century now and he's known I've been looking for a set of matching swords. Recently the search took on a new meaning for me and I now need to find the missing sword. Before it was for sentimental reasons, now I want to return it to its rightful owner."

"May I ask why this sword is so important to you?"

"It is one of a pair that was specially designed for us and hand-crafted in 1075, in England. The pair is like no other. I have mine and I want to find the mate and return it."

"Why doesn't the owner look for it himself?"

"He believes, as I did, that they were gone for good. Connor discovered mine in an auction 10 years ago or so, and has continued to help me in my search. I had always thought I would reunite the pair and keep them because I hadn't seen him for so long that I wasn't sure if he was still alive or not. Now that I've seen him, I want to find the sword and return it."

"This rightful owner-- just who are we talking about?" Duncan asked, interested.

"He is a man who has held my heart in one form or another for a very long time. We were 'killed' by thieves 800 years ago and the swords were stolen."

"Tell me about the swords," Duncan said.

She never got the chance to respond to his question. They felt a buzz at the same time the elevator sounded. Duncan figured it would be Richie so he didn't rise from his chair. As the elevator stopped Duncan turned and saw Richie step out accompanied by Joe Dawson.

"Richie. Joe, what brings you over?" Duncan asked rising to greet his friend.

"Thought I would stop by and see if I could talk you into indulging in some single malt. Didn't think you'd have company," Joe said, as he noticed Fiona rising from Duncan's chair.

"Joe, this is Fiona Roisin. Fiona, Joe Dawson," Duncan said.

Fiona walked over to shake hands with Joe, and spied the tattoo on his left wrist. "A Watcher?" she said quietly. "Does he know what you are?" she asked tipping her head to Duncan.

Joe looked at her, stunned. "You know about Watchers?" he asked obviously not hiding what he was. It was his way of letting her know MacLeod and Richie knew.

"You don't live to be my age without running across the Watchers at some time. I have known several of my watchers over the years, back when you could fully trust them not to take your head," she said sarcastically before asking one more question, "Do you watch all immortals?"

"All the ones we know about or haven't lost, yes. And not all of us are out to kill Immortals. Actually some of us are even still breaking the rules by being friends with our assignments," he told her in the same sarcastic tone she'd used with him.

She knew that. She knew all about those precious few who befriended 'their' Immortals. "I'm sorry, Joe. I didn't mean to insinuate you were one of those," she apologized then offered an explanation, "I lost a good friend a few years ago to those madmen and I've been rather leery of those I don't know ever since."

"May I ask who?" Joe asked. She'd piqued his curiosity big time and he wanted to know more about her.

"Darius."

Duncan paled at hearing Darius' name. "He was a good friend of mine."

"So you are the highland friend he used to talk about. I'm sure you can understand my surprise at meeting a Watcher in your home," she explained.

"Yes, I can. Joe and I met shortly after Darius' death. He helped me track Darius' murderers and showed me not all of the Watchers were killers."

"I guess I can understand your surprise at seeing my tattoo," Joe commented.

Fiona smiled. "So tell me, if you watch all Immortals, do you watch Methos as well?" she wanted to test the waters a bit and see what they knew about the 'old man' before she made a decision to invite him to visit.

Joe and Duncan glanced at each other in surprise at her mention of the oldest Immortals name.

"Methos is a myth, he doesn't exist," Duncan told her calmly.

"We have a man researching the Methos Chronicles, but we have nothing substantial in the past 1000 years or so that we know of," Joe contradicted Duncan's comment.

Duncan wondered where Joe was leading his guest by disagreeing with him. He decided he must be trying to find out what she knows about Methos.

Fiona just smiled at Duncan. "Methos is no myth. I knew him well, once upon a time," She smiled, thinking about the man she left only a couple of months earlier. Oh, if they only knew.

The three men stared at Fiona and the revelation she'd made. She knew Methos. Did she also know about Adam?

"You really knew Methos?" Richie asked innocently. Duncan smiled. Richie didn't know Adam's secret. The eldest immortal didn't want news of his existence to go any further than those who already knew.

"Yes, Richie," she smiled warmly. "We met a very long time ago."

Joe paled as he tried to work something out. "Wait a minute... 1500 years old... Fiona... No. You're *that* Fiona?"

"You know of me?" This was definitely a surprise to her, she knew they had a chronicle on her but she also knew that not much was being written anymore and most never heard of her.

"Yes, I've actually read some of your chronicles. There is only one Fiona, the Druidess. You're pretty well known among those who've been allowed to see your chronicles. For some reason your chronicles are guarded almost as tightly as the Methos ones. But there are few immortals with your healing and medicinal powers, not to mention being a bard. Do you still know the old tales?"

Richie looked on as they talked. He was clueless as to what she and Joe were talking about. What was a bard?

Fiona smiled. She knew why her chronicles were guarded. There were too many references to Methos or as the journals put it one who could be a candidate for being Methos. "It's nothing really, no magic, just the right medicines and prayers to the Goddess. And yes Joe, I still remember some of the old tales, in Gaelic though. I've never translated them."

"Think some day you would be willing to sing them for me/us?" Joe asked with anticipation.

Duncan and Richie sat listening to the conversation. What would Methos say if he knew she was here? Duncan decided he'd talk to Joe tomorrow about calling Methos and telling him.

"I'd be honored to," she said smiling at Joe. This could be fun. But she had business to attend, "Now, Duncan, where were we?"

"You were about to tell me what the sword looked like," Duncan answered.

"Oh yes, it was a Norman longsword in shape and style, both had designs etched on the blade and they had matching carved hilts fitted to our grips. I'll bring mine over so you can see it; it's a short sword as opposed to his long sword, but the designs are the same. One other thing, our names were carved in an Irish dialect of ancient Gaelic on the individual swords. I have the one with my name on it now I want his."

"Bring it by when you can and we can discuss how to proceed," Duncan told her. "Do you have a place to stay?"

"I have a suite at the Four Seasons for now but I'll probably be looking for a place of my own sooner or later," she answered.

That effectively ended the conversation. Joe brought up the idea of dinner and they decided to order out for Chinese. Duncan invited Fiona to stay for dinner and she accepted, glad for the company. She'd decided to relocate here for a while. It would be easier to be close if Duncan took her up on her request to look for the sword. If not maybe she could meet some new friends and secretly find out what they knew about Methos. Starting over in a new place was always lonely, but maybe this time would be different.

The delivery boy arrived and they split up the various dishes they had ordered. Fiona liked the companionship the three men offered and decided she'd made a good decision coming here to enlist Duncan's assistance to search for Methos' sword. She'd have to call London and make sure things got closed up properly. She had no idea how long she'd be here, but she knew it would be until she located the sword. Depending on how things went, she might even make it permanent move, or as permanent as it can be. She wanted to surprise Methos with the sword when next they met, and if she found these three men to be trustworthy she might divulge his secret and bring Methos to meet them. For now, she would enjoy their companionship.

As the evening wore on their numbers dwindled. Richie was the first to leave, saying he had friends to meet at some New Wave club that just opened. Joe was next. He had to close up the bar. She walked with him to the door, promising to come and sing for him, and with him. She had discovered during the night's conversation he was a musician. Kissing him on the cheek, she smiled and waited as he closed the elevator behind him. Only she and Duncan were left.

They sat talking for a while longer until the weariness she felt from traveling won out over her desire to socialize. Duncan went to call her a cab and when he turned to tell her when it would arrive she was really struck by what a beautiful man he was. If she were interested in a relationship, she could be interested in him. But not now. Not when she had a mission.

 

Duncan woke late the following morning with Fiona on his mind. He didn't know what to think about her. He'd call Joe once he got cleaned up and talk to him about her. She was beautiful and he had no doubt he could be interested in her quickly. The truth of the matter was that she had been Methos's lover, and he had no idea if either knew the other were alive or how they would feel about each other... he couldn't do that until he knew for sure.

Twenty minutes later, showered and armed with coffee, he placed a call to Joe.

"Joe's."

"Dawson, it's Mac, I wanted to talk to you about Fiona."

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me. What do you want to know?"

"Is she really who she says she is?"

"Definitely, I just checked the data base and they have a picture of her from about fifty years ago; oddly enough, the picture is of her and Darius sitting under a tree laughing. That was the first time we've had any first-hand contact with her in a hundred years or so."

"Nothing more recent?"

"No, Mac, nothing more recent. She's who she says she is. She doesn't have a watcher because she's hard to keep up with, but it seems she always makes a pilgrimage to Ireland the same time every year or so since she resurfaced. We catch her there to check up on her before she disappears again. Although she has been pretty settled in London for a few years now, she still doesn't have a permanent watcher and I have no idea why. There are rumors of her having friends within the hierarchy of the Watchers."

"Should we tell Methos she's here?

"Hell, Mac, I don't know. It might be what he needs to shake him out of his slump but I don't know if it's wise at the moment. What if she's being watched by some of Horton's minions? We certainly don't want them to find Methos or discover Adam's secret."

"Good point. So we just wait and see."

"Sounds like a good plan."

 

 

She never made it back to Duncan's the next day or the one after that. Instead she went in search of a place to live, which much to her surprise she found fairly quickly: a free-standing garage, converted into an apartment with a small patio with wide shallow steps leading down to a small plot of land the owners said she could use as a garden. Beltane was just around the corner and she could plant then. The building itself sat back from the main house and faced out onto the back lawn instead of the driveway. Furnishing the one-room apartment with just the necessities was easy and accomplished by a trip to the local Ikea with a rented pick-up truck. Chairs and a dining room table, a cushy sofa, a bed, and her two old trunks which contained the best of her memories. The rest of her things were packed and stored; most immortals kept things stored that way. A glass top stretched between a wooden file cabinet on one side and a very full bookcase on the other. On top of the table sat her laptop in amongst the flowers and crystals, and a few pictures of friends. It was all she would need for now, besides her swords of course: the decorated short sword, and the one she used, her rapier, which hung mounted, in between the windows. The rest of her walls were mostly bare, save for a few watercolors she'd picked up years before in Ireland, to remind her of her home. She figured she could slowly decorate her new place when she saw something that tickled her fancy.

Fiona walked into a mostly empty Joe's Bar late one afternoon, within a week of their meeting, and found him playing. She stood quietly as he sang an old ballad, his voice was deep, and she felt the passion he put into the song. As he finished she applauded and walked forward out of the shadows.

"Joe, that was wonderful. You put so much emotion into what you sing."

He looked embarrassed. "Thank you. Since you got to hear me sing, now it's your turn," he said, motioning her toward the small stage where he sat.

Holding her hands up, she backed up and said, "Oh no."

"Oh yes." He insisted

"Joe, I can't, I don't have my dulcimer," she tried to us as an excuse to get out of singing. While she used to like to sing in public, she rarely did it anymore.

"So do it without. Or, better yet, why don't I play something for you and you can join me?" He said, holding his hand out for her to join him on the stage.

She relented and they discussed what songs to sing, and Joe started to play and old ballad. She joined him; her Alto voice blending well with his Baritone. They moved from one song to another and before they realized the better part of a half hour had passed. Voices hoarse and throats dry, they headed to the bar to quench their thirst, laughing along the way. It was then she noticed the limp was more than it actually appeared and wondered what had happened to him. Maybe once she got to know him better, she'd ask about it.

They drifted into the ease of friendship without even trying. They sat joking about anything and talking about times they had sung for others. She told him stories about singing in the courts of England and Europe; regaling him with tales of drunken kings and knights. Mike came in to help with the busy evening to find Joe and Fiona laughing and the bar not ready. Fiona quickly offered to help, and they were ready when it was time to open.

Joe left Mike in charge and escorted her to her new home. He would be the first of her new friends to see the place, and she was a bit nervous. Joe eyed the place and smiled.

"I like it," he told her, as he walked around looking at the pictures, her books and then finally the swords.

He reached out and touched the short sword, his finger following the line of the etchings. "So this is the one you want to find the companion to?"

"Yes, it is," she said wistfully.

"It's beautiful," he told her as he turned to look back at her.

"Thank you, Joe."

"It means a lot to you to find the other sword doesn't it?"

"Yes it does."

"Honey, with your determination, I know you will find it, it'll just be a matter of time," he told her as he reached out to stroke her cheek.

"I hope so," she told him quietly, leaning into his touch.

"So, now that we're here, there is no excuse for you not to play for me. Where's that dulcimer?" he knew her earlier excuse was just that, an excuse and he wasn't about to let her out of singing one of the old songs for him.

"And here I thought you'd forget." She'd hoped he'd forgotten about it. It was just that she was embarrassed by the attention she was getting about singing the old songs from him.

"Not me, got a memory like an elephant." He sat on the sofa.

Fiona retrieved her dulcimer and sat next to him on the sofa. Removing it from case, she began to pick at the strings, tuning them. He watched her concentration. Finally it was tuned and she started to play, modern pieces, ancient ones, and silly things she made up. Joe watched her as she played, she was truly beautiful, not like a fashion model but in a very natural way that came from the inside. She never did anything to make herself stand out. She wore few if any cosmetics, and dressed in causal clothes, nothing to draw attention to herself. From what he'd seen of her so far he figured she was very unassuming in nature.

It had gotten late. Joe got up to leave and she walked him to the door. He stopped, turning to look down at her. He could see a deep sadness in her eyes and he wondered if it were all because of her inability to find the sword or if there was something deeper. He pulled her close for a hug and felt her return it with a pressure that made him wonder when she'd last been held by a man. As they each pulled back, Joe was struck by the desire to kiss her. He moved his hand to cup her face, brushing his thumb across her lower lip. She took his hand and kissed his palm. Lowering his head, he claimed her lips in a long and undemanding kiss, which she returned. When he broke the kiss, he looked into her eyes. There, he saw no recriminations for his actions, only contentment. He ran his thumb across her lip again and gave her another quick kiss before turning and walking out the door. Fiona stood there thinking of her earlier resolve not to get involved with anyone until she found Methos's sword -- but Joe was different. She saw something in him that drew her in like a moth to the flame and she found herself becoming attracted to him despite herself, she just hoped she wouldn't get burned in the end.

She ran into Joe the next day when she went back to the dojo to talk to Duncan. He looked at her, flushing slightly, as she smiled warmly at him. Duncan, seeing the exchange raised a questioning eyebrow at Joe, which the mortal ignored.

"Mac, I'll see what I can find out for you and I'll let you know. Fiona, nice to see you again," He said as he turned to leave.

"Joe, wait, I'll walk you out," she said, taking his arm as they crossed the floor. "Duncan, I'll be right back."

As they stopped in the doorway, she wrapped her arm around him, not letting him get away like the night before.

"Duncan's watching."

"Do you care?" she asked and when she saw his head shake she continued, "Why did you leave last night?" Fiona asked.

"I thought I'd overstepped my bounds."

"You didn't, you could have stayed. I would have liked for you to stay."

He looked at her and smiled. She was truly delightful. "No, I couldn't have. I'm too old for casual affairs."

She smiled into his twinkling eyes and laughed. "You're too old? That's a good one. Just how old is too old, Joe? Fifty, a hundred and fifty, a thousand, fifteen hundred?"

Joe started laughing. She cupped his face as he laughed with her. He kissed her fingers as she ran them across his lips. She rose up on her toes and Joe leaned back into the door frame, pulling her close, and kissing her deeply. They broke the kiss and just stood holding each other for another moment. She could feel his body betray his earlier words, his arousal evident as it pressed into her thigh. She was hopeful they could be more than friends, she wanted them to be. She was beginning to feel something for this man that she hadn't felt in a long time. It surprised her and yet comforted her at the same time. He was truly different and she wanted to know him better. Fiona, feeling another buzz, pulled back slightly, turning, and almost ran into Richie as he was coming in.

Joe and Fiona laughed.

"I guess we should have tried this someplace more private," she sighed, moving back against him.

"*You*, Fee, are something else. Come by later today and bring your dulcimer, I have an idea." He kissed her quickly again and headed towards the door, whistling.

"Joe," she called just before he let the door close behind him. When he turned, she added, "I don't do casual either…"

His smile told her all she needed to know. Turning back towards the office, she saw Duncan and Richie watching her. Smiling, she headed their way.

"Hi, Fiona," Richie said as he decided to head out of the office and leave them alone. He could tell by the way Mac was staring at her that he was unhappy and he really didn't want to be a part of it.

"Hi, Richie, bye Richie," she said at her entrance and his exit. "Duncan."

Duncan didn't acknowledge her greeting at first, he just stood, his body tense, looking at her. Finally he demanded, "Just what are you up to with Dawson?"

"What business is it of yours?"

"He is my friend, and not a toy for you."

"And who are you? His father? It's none of your business. It's between Joe and me," she told him, as her anger rose.

"And when he gets hurt by an immortal coming after you?" he demanded.

"Listen to you. Mr. Self Righteous. You are the one who is breaking all kinds of rules. You think he's any safer being your friend than my lover? He's not. You have managed to piss off those who would rather see us dead and they would stop at nothing to hurt you if given the opportunity, and that includes using Joe to get to you if the need be. So don't start preaching to me about Joe's safety." She was nearly spitting with anger.

"Then you tell me something. How much do you know about the renegade Watchers? And how do you know so much about the watchers period?" he asked.

"I have friends where most don't. I can get away without having a watcher constantly following me because of those friends. Besides I'm 1500 years old and have learned things from people you never knew existed."

"So that's why Joe didn't have anything recent on you when he checked?"

"Joe checked on me? Good, I would have expected him to do no less."

"But all this still doesn't explain how you know as much as you do about the renegade Watchers?"

"I told you I have sources."

"Oh, so that's supposed to make me feel better."

"MacLeod, I am not here to make you feel better, *I* am here to find a sword and anything else is *none* of your business."

She spun on her heel and crossed the floor, almost making it out the door before Duncan grabbed her.

"Get your hands off me." She spit, her Irish temper getting the better of her.

He released her arm and held his hands up in surrender. "Listen can we talk, calmly? Please?"

"I'm listening."

"In the office, please."

They walked back across to the office. Closing the door behind her, he sat on the edge of the desk and faced her.

"Fiona, we know absolutely nothing about you. Can you see where I might be a little cautious? Joe is my friend, and I try not to get him involved where other immortals are concerned, especially if he could get hurt."

She understood the reasons for his caution. In fact, she'd worried about things like that in the past as well, and would so again because of Joe. However, she still refused to discuss her relationship with Joe, saying only that he had to trust them.

After their argument about Joe, they decided they were both concerned about Joe and his safety. She had showed Duncan her sword and he made detailed notes on the craftsmanship and the designs of the longsword, and took careful photos of it as well. This would help when he began to contact people looking for the mate.

Over the next few weeks both of them spent hours on the computer, accessing the archive records of museums around the world, searching for anything that closely fit the description of the sword. They pored through the on-line archives and museum catalogues, ordering collection catalogues from those museums that didn't have Internet. Richie was recruited to help go through the printed museum catalogues and, the auction catalogues. Duncan called in favors from friends who ran private auctions seeing if they had any information regarding swords bought and purchased. He came up empty, just as Connor had with all his sources.

By the time they were finished, they had a list for a couple dozen museums that might have it. Duncan said he would fly and check on some of them, calling her if any came close to matching. She then would fly out to meet him and confirm whether it was actually the sword or not. This would set the pattern for the next few months.

Fiona still spent quite a bit of time with Joe, helping out at the bar, or just sitting with him as he worked. He talked her into accompanying him once in a while on stage and Joe's customers had no complaints when she would sing her tales in Ancient Irish. They couldn't understand the ancient Irish but her deep throaty voice entranced them so that they didn't care.

She and Joe decided the kisses they had shared earlier would be kept someplace special and remembered fondly, but would not interfere with their friendship. Though he said nothing to her, Joe was not comfortable with the idea of entering a relationship with a woman who had shared and still did share something with Methos. He still needed to find out if they knew about each other and how they still felt before he would pursue her. His decision didn't make her any less important to him, however, he just carefully guided their time together so it was meaningful without being intimate and thus too tempting. He made the decision for them both and, although Fiona was disappointed, she went along with it. She knew she wanted him in her life. If friendship was all he'd allow, she would have to go along with it, for now. He didn't treat her as if she were just a casual acquaintance, but rather as a treasured friend. She had come to trust him as she had never really trusted a mortal and very few Immortals. They would spend hours away from the bar at one or the other's place talking about themselves, their pasts, their dreams and what ever came to mind. She shared things with him she knew weren't in any chronicle in the Watcher's archives, knowing she could trust him and his discretion about where she'd been and what she'd been doing. She hadn't told him much about Methos, but she knew she would eventually. She just needed to figure out how to do it.

She had been in Seacouver about six weeks when Duncan got their first real lead on a sword. He had flown to Barcelona and was meeting with the curator of a relatively unknown museum of weaponry who remembered having seen an ornately carved sword, several years earlier that might fit the description. All Fiona could do was wait and patience wasn't her good suit.

While Duncan was still in Barcelona, Fiona was busy wearing holes in Joe's floor.

"Fee, will you please sit down. You're making me dizzy," Joe complained.

"I'm sorry Joe, I just wish he'd call and let me know if it's the sword or not," she told him. Smiling; he was the only one she allowed besides Methos to call her Fee.

"He'll call when he finds something out. Don't worry..."

The phone interrupted the rest of what he was going to say. He raised an eyebrow at her as if to say, *see, I told you*.

"Joe's...........yea Mac she's here, you better have some news for her, she's wearing holes in my floor................Fiona, it's Mac, for you."

"Did you find it?............OK, hello Duncan, now tell me did you find it?.........it wasn't it..........no. Thanks for checking......right, see you in a few days." She handed the phone to Joe and walked away.

Joe came up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. She turned and buried her face in his chest, tears falling.

"Easy, honey, Mac will find the sword you just have to give him some time."

"I know, Joe. It's just so hard to wait and not do anything. I just wish there was more I could do."

"You are doing a lot. You're doing most of the computer work, searching through archives and collection photos until you can't see straight. You've only been at it six weeks."

"No, Joe, I've been at it for ten years off and on, ever since Connor found mine," she said softly against his shirt.

"Tell you what. Go home. I'll turn the bar over to Mike tonight and I'll bring some steaks over, we'll grill them on that patio of yours, and sit and get drunk. OK?"

She smiled, "Okay, Joe, I'll see you later," Fiona turned, gathering her bag, and headed out the door.

Joe watched her leave then turned and headed to call Mike and let him know he wouldn't be into the bar that night.

Fiona sat on her sofa listening to Joe hum as he broiled the steaks in the oven, the rain kept them from grilling outdoors. That was okay, though, the smell of the rain took her back to places she enjoyed in her memories, Ireland, the rainy jungles or times spent with Methos in other beautiful places around the world. Funny, how little things could trigger a memory. The first time she met Methos it had been in a glen in Erin.

Joe watched her as he cooked. She was a complex woman, that one. Outwardly feminine, but tough when needed and with a temper he didn't even want to think about having turned on him. He could see how people might underestimate her as a result of that feminine appearance. Big mistake on their part.

They ate dinner and watched as the last rays of sun disappeared over the horizon. Joe insisted he would clean up her tiny kitchen since he was the one to mess it up. She stood on the patio now, listening to the rain fall. The wind had changed direction and the rain no longer came onto the patio, but fell straight down, gently.

Joe left the last of the dishes and walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her. She leaned back into his embrace, feeling comfort in his warmth. They didn't often push the intimacy between them because the attraction they felt was still too close too the surface. This was the first time Joe had held her, just to hold her, and she liked it

He lifted her hand, stopping her from twirling the ring she wore on her thumb. He eased it off and looked at it before replacing it. It was old and worn, but of unmistakable Celtic design.

"This was Methos's wasn't it?"

"Yes. We had matching rings once. Mine was stolen and Methos gave me his. He said I needed the protection of the knot more than he did. It was during the Middle Ages, when they were trying to destroy all the symbols of Paganism. And being Druid, I always had to be careful or I could have been burned, it was bad enough when I was hung."

"That sounds like something he would do," Joe said quietly.

She turned in his arms, surprise showing in her emerald eyes. "Joe, you know him, don't you?"

"Yes. I do. He's a good friend of mine."

"Does Duncan?"

"Yes, he does. But I don't know if he's put it all together enough to realize he's looking for Methos's sword." Joe told her quietly.

"How did you know? About the sword I mean? And why didn't anyone say something?"

"Would tell you a stranger you are friends with the oldest immortal, especially if it were another immortal? The swords, well, Sarah MacGreggor told me about the three of you one time and the swords were mentioned. Tell me about how you got the swords."

"You know Sarah? Wait! That means she's *alive*! But I thought she was dead, Methos said.... fantastic."

"Yeah, I know, Sarah and she's definitely alive. She's living here in Seacouver, although right now she is teaching abroad and working on a thesis for another Ph.D. She should be back sometime this fall or next spring at the latest. I bet you two were a handful together. Now, will you finish telling me about the swords?"

"Oh boy, I can't wait to see her again. The fact she's alive is incredible, and working on a thesis for another Ph.D.? Wow, this so different from the Sarah I remember," Fiona told him excitedly.

"Okay, the swords, well it was after Britain was conquered by William in 1066. We were traveling across country and stopped in this city. It was shortly before dusk and we felt the faint stirring of immortality. He was a craftsman, making swords for the nobles.

"We befriended him and spent countless hours drinking pints of mead over the next few months. Methos was on his way to find him one night and overheard an argument between Stefan and a knight. The knight won and ran him through. Methos carried him back to the inn and we waited for him to come around. We told him what he was, and left that night under the cover of darkness.

"We traveled together the four of us, training Stefan, teaching him the rules. What a motley crew we were. I guess it was sometime into the fourth year when we landed in another fair-sized city. Stefan decided to make swords again for the knights. One day he informed us that he was off to join the Lionheart on the Crusades. He wanted to make the King's sword. Before he left he said he had a gift for us, a matched pair of swords for Methos and me, his teachers. A long sword for Methos and a short sword for me. Both were etched, with symbols and designs, and our names in ancient Irish, in a place only we would know.

"That was the last time we ever saw him. I've seen other pieces of his in museums, so I know he lived for some time after he left us."

"Would you like me to see if he's in the data base?"

"No, I would always like to think of him sitting in some monastery making things for monks, instead of having lost his head."

"When was the last time you saw him, Fee, Methos that is?"

"February. And before that, 300 years ago, when I walked out on him."

Joe chuckled. "You walked out on him?"

"Yeah," she said with a shrug and a small smile, "at the time it was the hardest thing I've ever done. He locked himself away and hid in his books and journals. He'd done it before but I was always able to bring him out of it. But that last time he was obsessed, and I wouldn't see him for days on end. He was stuck in some journal trying to piece some facts together that were incomplete due to the unexpected death of another Watcher. I figured he didn't want me around anymore when he barely talked to me, and refused to eat anything, so I left. Funny, you know I found out when I saw him a few months ago that I was what kept him from totally losing himself in the journals. He'd come back to our home because he knew I'd be there waiting for him. It makes so much sense now but the way he was then, I couldn't see it and I was so hurt by the rejection I felt that I couldn't bear it.

"I can't live like that Joe. You've seen me, I like to get out meet people, have fun. You should see his place in Paris, it's all books, journals, and computer equipment."

"I've seen it. But you forgot the stereo equipment, CD's, and beer bottles." Joe laughed. "So what did you do? Walk out every time he got to caught up in the chronicles? Good for you."

"Joe!" she said, surprised, "I never would have expected you to say that, he's your friend."

"He is but he needs to be shaken up once in a while. He can't hide forever. What were you two like together?"

"We had fun when we weren't fighting like cat and dogs. We spent six hundred years together off and on, so we knew each other through and through. We would be together for any number of years then we would each go our own way for however long it took us to find each other and we would start over again. Our parting was always mutual and it never changed how we felt about each other. He was my best friend as well as my lover. We could cry on each others shoulder, we could get piss drunk and get rowdy, and we could love. He was stubborn and perfectly impossible and we would fight and throw things at each other then spend the rest of the night in bed making up."

She leaned back against him once more and sighed.

"What is it, Fee?" He ran his hands down her arms.

"He looked so lost when I saw him last. The light had gone out of his eyes, and even while I was there it only came back the slightest bit. What happened to him, Joe? Do you know?"

"There was a woman that he fell very much in love with only to find out she was dying. They spent her last six months or so together, traveling. He was showing her all he could while they had time. Then she became too ill and he stayed with her while she died. After that he just shut himself off from everybody. The last time any of us have seen him or talked to him was a few weeks after Alexa's funeral."

She stood awhile, silently watching the rain. "Oh Joe, he never said. But that would explain the sadness I would see in his eyes at times when he didn't know I was watching."

"He just needs time to grieve, Fee. Then he'll come back around. It hasn't even been a year yet."

"I know but it doesn't stop me from worrying about him." She agreed with what Joe said, Methos did need time to grieve and then he would be fine. What worried most was what would happen if someone else found him. In his current frame of mind would he fight with all his ability if challenged?

"Worrying is what friends do for each other but what you need to do is concentrate on something else. Seduce MacLeod, go to the clubs with Richie and forget about Methos for a while he'll be back when he's ready and you know it. Let Duncan do the leg work in finding the sword, and when you find it, go to Methos and hold on tight if its what you still want."

"What if it isn't MacLeod I want to seduce?" she asked quietly, looking over her shoulder to him.

"We've talked about this before…" Joe reminded her with a sigh.

"I know, but… I wish…" she left the rest unsaid. She didn't want to ruin what they had now but she did wish she could talk him out of his decision.

"I know," he said quietly. He to wished, but right now it was wiser to remain as they were. "But you still have things unresolved and that needs to be what you concentrate on right now."

"I know, you're right. How did you get so wise?"

"Hanging around you immortals," he chuckled, "So tell me, is Fiona your real name or one you chose for yourself?"

"Fiona is actually a shortened version of Lasairfhiona. I've been using Fiona since the 10th Century, though, it was just easier."

They stood there and talked for a while longer before Joe decided it was time to go. She made him promise not to tell Methos or MacLeod of their conversation that night, which he did gladly. Some things she just wasn't ready to explain, to Duncan especially. She wanted to find the sword before she told him about Methos. Part of Joe couldn't wait to see the hell this would raise and the other part was concerned about the ramifications of her revelation, especially to MacLeod.

Duncan came home from Barcelona empty handed and they returned to the grind of tracking down another lead on the sword. Connor called a few times with things he'd heard about in some of his antique circles. Nothing panned out. Fiona was getting discouraged. Joe kept her going when she got depressed at their lack of success. His friendship meant the world to her, but there were times when she wished he'd let there be more between them. Her feelings for Joe ran deeper than she was ready to admit and were much more than the initial sexual attraction she'd felt for him.

By August, she and Duncan were getting frustrated. In the four months they'd been searching for the 'damn sword' as it was becoming known, they had only a few solid leads that quickly went cold. Fiona and Duncan had been going over a few more catalogues and drinking wine. Fiona, disgusted with it all, threw down the one she had and headed toward the stereo. Maybe Joe had been right and what she needed to was to seduce Duncan after all. Turning on some jazz, she walked around the loft turning out Duncan's lights. He looked up at her wondering what she was up to. Her next stop was to pull the catalogue Duncan was holding out of his hands, fling it across the floor, and tug him upright.

Duncan raised an eyebrow at her, "Fiona?" His curiosity had been peaked.

"Dance with me," she purred.

Duncan pulled her into his arms and they began to move the music. He was an excellent dancer and they moved around the loft effortlessly, changing with the music. Sometimes during a slow piece they just swayed, holding each other close and letting the music wrap around them. A quicker beat, from days long past, had them flying around in intricate dance steps. At one point the music was slow and quiet and they stood in the circle of each other's arms, barely moving to the music, her fingers playing with the ends of his ponytail. She quickly removed the keeper and let his hair fall along his shoulders. Moving her hand around to the back of his neck she pulled his head down to hers, claiming his mouth with her own. Duncan responded quickly by hauling her closer. He overcame his initial hesitancy about her and Methos and gave into the desires that had been building as they worked together. Releasing her moments later, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to his bed.

"Duncan!" she said in mock horror.

"Yes, Fiona?"

"I just love being carried to bed." She giggled.

"Good, because that's where I've want to take you since that first night."

He dropped her on the bed and landed next to her, he pulled her close and pinned her giggling body under his.

"Oh Duncan." Were the last conscious words she remembered uttering before falling into the wave of passion that overtook them both.

Several hours later, she woke trembling. The dream was back again. Damn, why couldn't she remember any more of it? What she could remember was vague: two men circling each other, swords drawn, not enough detail for either man for her to be able distinguish who they were. The blood. The screaming. The swords. What were the gods trying to tell her?

She'd been having these dreams since she'd run into Methos in Paris. For all her knowledge in the healing arts, she never learned the art of Seeing from her teachers. Her training had been incomplete when her village was raided and all the Druids killed. She covertly had studied with others over the centuries, but most were too afraid to teach her how to use the Sight.

Duncan woke to find her trembling next to him. He pulled her closer and held her until the trembling subsided.

"Bad dream?"

She nodded against his chest. Hoping the comfort he offered was enough to make the images go away.

"Want to talk about it?"

"There's nothing I can really talk about. I've been having versions of this dream off and on for months now but lately it has gotten worse. I don't know what it means," she whispered as if the gods would hear her.

Duncan held her that first night and every time the dream happened thereafter, calming the trembling, absorbing the tears. After one particularly violent awakening for her, when she woke up screaming Methos's name, Duncan held her, deciding it was long past time to try and get her to talk.

"Fiona, talk to me, tell me what's going on," he asked gently, rocking her as the tears finally subsided.

"Tonight's was different, bloodier. Someone gets killed and all I can do is watch, I still can't see who the people are. I can see myself but they can't hear me and I can't hear what I'm yelling. There is a quickening. Damn it, I feel so useless. Why is this happening now?" Fiona turned and buried her face into Duncan's chest, her tears continued to fall unchecked for a long while.

When she had quieted some Duncan asked, quietly, "You don't understand any of it? Not why or who?"

Fiona straightened a little, moving away from Duncan and hugging her knees to her chest. "No, nothing, and it is so frustrating. I want to help whoever gets killed but I can't. I can't get there in time to stop it. I can't see who they are so I can't even try to warn the living person of the danger."

"Have you had dreams like this before?"

"I have nightmares anytime I'm involved in a war. I hate violence. Sometimes I have dreams that will tell me someone is in trouble but that's pretty much it."

"Is this what you think this dream is- someone's in trouble, someone you know?"

"It must be, but I have know idea who. Duncan, I don't want to talk about this any more. It scares me." She released her knees and allowed Duncan to pull her back against his chest.

Duncan held her, smoothing her hair down her back, hoping his caresses would help lull her back to sleep. He was worried about terror the dreams caused her. He was also worried about Methos and wondered what she might not be telling him. Could her dreams possibly mean harm to Methos? Did she really not know what was being said? Could she possibly not know she was calling out Methos's name? He hated feeling suspicious about her. He knew he could really fall for her if she would open herself up more and let him in but other than Joe, she didn't seem to let anyone really in. Even Richie had commented that sometimes he felt like she was holding something back and if it was obvious to the kid… And yea, it irked him she was so open with Joe when it was obvious she wasn't with him. He hated being jealous of his friend.

Over the next few months, whenever she stayed over she would have the nightmares. She was getting to the point where she was just afraid to stay with him because of the dreams. She didn't know how much longer she could cope with having them and not knowing why or whom they were about. She stood at the sink one morning after a particularly bad one, knowing she couldn't go through another night of nightmares. The lack of sleep was affecting her in more ways than just being tired all the time.

Duncan came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and kissing the top of her head. She stayed in his embrace for a moment then wiggled out of his grasp under the pretense of getting a cup of coffee. Once she had her coffee she took a seat opposite him, looking down into her cup.

"You look like you have something on your mind." He hoped maybe she would finally open up to him.

"I do. Duncan, I think we should stop seeing each other." She hated to end it because she normally enjoyed being with him, but…

Duncan set down the cup he'd just picked up, "Why?" he asked it was the last thing he expected her to say.

"It's the dreams. I can't handle them any more. We haven't gotten a good nights sleep in weeks. I just can't do it any more."

"Fiona..."

"No, Duncan, wait. I'm scared, really scared. I just can't keep putting myself in a situation where they keep coming back and are progressively getting worse. I think we both know they are only happening when we are together."

"Do you know anything more about them?" he wondered. She had refused to talk about them after the first few times.

"No, nothing more. I just know they are getting worse, more blood, a quickening, but that is all. Still nothing on who is involved."

"Fiona, we can work through this..." he tried to convince her although he wasn't entirely convinced himself, especially since he didn't believe her when she said she didn't know she woke screaming Methos's name.

"Damn it Duncan. No we can't!" Fiona slammed her cup down and walked away. She turned, "Don't you think if we could have worked through this the dreams might have ended or gotten better instead of worse. I just can't do this anymore. I care about you, you've been a good friend, but I know if we continue we'll just end up hating each other and I don't want that to happen."

"This is all so easy for you isn't it? You've had so many centuries of practice getting rid of lovers." Duncan stood holding his mug tightly, his knuckles white from the pressure.

"No, Damn it, it isn't easy for me. Do you think I like having these nightmares spoil our time together? Do you think I want to dread spending the night here because of them?" Fiona asked as she threw the pillow she'd been holding back onto the sofa.

He looked up at her last comment, releasing the hold he had on his mug. "Dreading being with me?" he focused on those words instead of what she was trying to tell him.

He moved around to look out the window, it was raining yet again, fitting weather considering what was going on right now.

"Duncan, if we continue, I will come to dread being with you because of the nightmares. I don't want that to happen, I don't want to hurt you. This isn't easy for either of us and there will be no winners here, only hurt all around." she told him as she moved toward him.

Fiona walked into his arms and held him tightly. They both were a little ragged from the dream waking them last night, and now her ending their affair left a lot of emotion sitting on the surface.

"You know the worst part of all this?" He whispered into her hair, "I agree with all you're saying in my head. It's the rest of me that can't get past the fact it'll be over before we even have a chance to see if it'll work."

She reached up, caressing his cheek. It was rough with stubble, "I wish I could make it all go away but I can't and it's not fair to you."

He held her for a while longer as they talked. When he finally released her he knew she would walk out that door and never return as a lover. His pride wanted to think she wouldn't go directly to Joe, but he knew better. She always went to Joe for everything.

He would have been wrong. Fiona didn't go directly to Joe, she went home. She wanted time to think, to make sure she really had done the right thing. She called Joe to let him know what happened, and that she wouldn't be around for a few days. She didn't want him to worry about her and she knew he would call or come by if she didn't show up as usual. He was like that.

She spent her new found free time cleaning up her garden, harvesting some vegetables and spending a lot of time in quiet meditation. It was times like this she missed the quiet comfort of Darius. He would often give her the guidance she needed. Fiona sat remembering their conversations, and the gentle way he would tease her into looking at his viewpoint. The more she thought of the warrior turned priest, the more she turned the recent events over in her mind, looking at all the angels. It was almost as if Darius was with her now, guiding her.

Fiona returned to working with Duncan after her self-appointed absence. It was awkward at first; they stumbled around their conversations as if each feared the other's reactions. By the end of the day they were back to their old selves with their gentle teasing and joking. Duncan had called Joe the day they split up and Joe had told him Fiona had called and was going to be out of touch for a while. He felt better just hearing Joe say he hadn't seen Fiona. He knew it was stupid but he was glad she didn't go to Dawson and wanted some time alone. It meant she was as troubled by their breakup as he was.

By Samhain, she and Joe were talking and the subject of the dreams came up.

"Joe, it's the damnedest thing. I'm only having them now when I've been with Duncan. Do you think it's some foreboding of something to happen to Duncan?"

"Fee, honey, you are the Druidess. What do you know about dreams and the Sight?"

"That wasn't part of my training. I am a Healer, not a Seer."

"OK, let me ask you this: Did you ever have the nightmares when you were with Methos? Connor? "

"Never with Methos. They started after I left him this last time. Connor and I were never lovers, so I wouldn't know if it would have happened with him or not. Besides, I think they are more of a recent occurrence. You are the only one I have been with that hasn't provoked the dreams," she said, remembering the times they had fallen asleep together on one of their sofas after spending an evening together. Joe was the only one to instill a sense of calm around her, like Methos used to.

Joe chuckled and pulled her close in a big hug. "Don't worry, you'll figure it out. Go home and do what ever it is you do to get ready for Samhain. You're worrying too much. Maybe if you relax and try to forget about the dreams, you'll figure out what they mean."

"Thanks Joe--" the rest of her sentence was cut off by the approach of another immortal. "Damn," she muttered.

Duncan had been out of town again looking into another lead on a sword. This one he brought home with him hoping it was the one. He'd decided on the plane to go over and talk with Joe first to see if he had any theories about Fiona's dreams or how to help her, before taking the sword over to her place. He found Fiona at the bar and in Joe's arms, laughing. Jealously hit him. She was always happy, laughing with Joe, and when they were together, she woke screaming from the nightmares. This was nothing new but being faced with it this time bothered him. He wanted to be the one she turned to and laughed with, but because of the dreams he knew he wouldn't ever get a chance to be. He cared about her, but there was just so much about her she kept closed off from him. In a lot of respects she reminded him of Methos in the way they both held things close and never revealed more than they intended too.

"Fiona. Joe."

"Duncan, you're back!"

"Just got in about an hour ago."

"Did you find it this time?" she spoke anxiously, knowing he was just returning from another mission; a fool's mission, she was beginning to believe.

"Take a look at this one. I was going to bring it by your place after I talked with Joe," he said, handing her a sword case.

Tentatively, she rubbed the worn leather and opened the case. Nestled in a bed of velvet was a sword. The sword. There, on the blade, in ancient Irish was his name: Arrawn, His name as she'd known him first.

"Duncan, you found it!" She cried. She flung herself into his arms, and hugged him tightly, "Thank you, thank you, thank you." She pulled away and went back to the sword, caressing the blade almost reverently. Tears started to roll down her cheeks. She just couldn't believe she was seeing it, touching it again after all these years.

Joe stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her as she continued to run her hands along the blade. "shhh…" he whispered against her head.

Duncan bit back the jealousy he felt and took a step forward and touched her hair. He wanted so much to be the one to hold her. "Fiona, don't cry, be happy. You have it now."

"Oh, I am happy. Happier than you could imagine," she said turning to look at him with a smile. , Turning again to Joe, she asked "Joe would you call him, find if he's going to be home for a while. I want take it to him. Please?" Her words rushed out, stumbling over each other.

"Call who, Fiona?" Duncan asked, interested. This was the first time that Fiona had even given him an inkling as to who owned the sword, although it was obvious she'd told Joe. It was just one more thing she'd kept from him and told Joe.

Fiona and Joe looked at each other before both saying, "Methos."

"Methos?" Duncan said shaking his head. "You mean to tell me you've had me searching for *his* sword for six months?" Duncan was hurt by her revelation. "Damit Fiona, didn't think you could trust me with that information after the past couple of months?" Duncan asked as he slapped his hand down on the bar. "You obviously knew he's a friend. Did you think I wouldn't help find it if I knew? Or has it been a big game to you? Enlist MacLeod to find the sword then go running back to Methos with it, forgetting all about the fact we've been lovers for the past couple months. Never mind I've been the one to hold your hand and calm your fears when you woke screaming in the middle of the night, screaming his name." Duncan threw out the comment about her yelling for Methos to hurt her, as he'd been hurt by her never telling him about it being Methos' sword. He'd never intended to tell her about it.

"Wait, what do you mean screaming his name?" Fiona straightened and moved to stand in front of Duncan.

Joe was worried. She was almost too calm. That couldn't be a good sign for someone as expressive in her emotions as she was, at least with him.

"Oh, yes. Many a night you woke from your nightmare, screaming his name in fear. I waited for you to tell me about the dreams, hoping you'd tell me why, but you never wanted to talk about them after the first time. Just one more thing you decided not to share with me I guess." His voice was uneven from the emotion he was keeping inside. He looked down at her, his fist clenched on the towel on the bar then released it slowly.

"Now you listen here. First of all, I didn't tell Joe anything. He figured out it was Methos's sword and we discussed it once. Something you could have done if you'd have really thought about it. I never hid the fact he'd once been important to me. But, Duncan, I only spoke to Joe about it once and only once. And as for the dreams, I kept telling you I had no real idea what was being said. How was I to know it was Methos's name I was calling out if you never told me?" She moved in front of him.

"Damn you!" He turned and walked out the door.

Joe and Fiona could only stare after him a he left they were too startled by his outburst to call him back.

Joe wondered about MacLeod's sudden outburst. Was his sudden anger was a residual effect of the dark quickening that hadn't totally gone away? Or if there was something else behind it, something he wasn't ready to talk about. Jealously, maybe? But of who? And why?

"What have I done?" She leaned into his arms yet again.

"Fee, there was nothing you could have said that would have kept him from getting angry." Joe told her having seen the way MacLeod didn't pay attention to what Fiona was telling him.

"Yes there was, Joe. I could have told him about the sword and Methos when you told me you all were friends. I could have not gotten involved with him. What a mess."

Joe poured her a glass of red wine and left her to sip on it while he headed to his office to call Methos, failing to reach the eldest Immortal. He hung up after leaving a generic message. He knew Fiona was disappointed, there was no way anyone could miss the droop to her shoulders and the absence of the ready smile she wore when she was at the bar. She'd have to try and call him and risk the possibility of ruining the surprise.

"I'm going to talk to Duncan." she said flatly, pushing the half drank glass of wine away and standing.

"Fee, watch your head he's really mad." Joe advised, hoping he was wrong about MacLeod's mood.

"Thanks Joe, for everything." She kissed him quickly and headed out the door.

 

Damn it, Duncan thought, that explained it all. She said she never hid the fact Methos had been important to her, but she had hidden the fact she'd seen him recently. The fact she'd played him for a fool angered him. And Dawson, what was that thing with him? He knew, or at least he thought he knew, they weren't lovers, though they might as well be, with all the time they spent together. She confided in Joe, trusted him where she didn't seem to trust others.

But she couldn't confide in him, she couldn't trust him, Duncan thought. His pride wouldn't let him see that maybe she had her reasons for not telling him about Methos. He just wanted to feel his anger toward her with out trying rationalize the motives of her actions. They had only briefly been lovers, but her nightmares had ended the relationship before it really had a chance to start. He still felt the inadequacy of being unable to help her through the nightmares and her rejection of his comfort added to that feeling. This revelation made him feel as if he'd never been important to her no matter how much she claimed he was.

By the time he got to the dojo, he was hurt, confused, and even angrier. He threw his coat onto a nearby bench and began to pace the floor, not noticing Richie in the office. Picking up his sword, he started moving it in the precise rhythmic movements of a kata, concentrating on the rise and fall of the sword.

Half and hour later, Duncan felt her approach and stood in the center of the room with his sword at ready. He could tell by the way she walked into the room that she was mad as hell and for once he didn't care. Her feelings were the last of his concern right now.

"How dare you say what you did to me and then walk out? What has gotten into you?" she demanded, stopping just short of where he was standing.

Fiona laid her coat and the sword case on the bench so her hands were empty. There was no doubt about how angry he was or at whom if the glare he gave her when she walked in was any indication. She was a firm believer that the best way to exorcise one's anger was physical exercise, which is why when she was pissed at someone she usually beat the hell out of a punching bag at her kickboxing class. Of course, in Duncan's case beating the hell out of her would probably do it since what ever he'd been doing to work up a sweat hadn't taken the edge of his anger if his expression was any indication. Walking over to the wall where Duncan kept the swords, Fiona pulled down a Katana she'd used before when they spared.

Turning toward him, she taunted, "Are you itching for a fight, is that it? Will it make you feel better to beat the hell out of me? Come on, tough guy. Take your best shot. See if you can beat me."

He stood there watching her but saying nothing until she took a swing at him. "I don't want your head." He blocked her swing, "Don't make me fight you."

"I don't want you to take my head," she countered, pressing forward, putting him on the defensive, knowing his strength wouldn't let her keep the advantage for long. She had to push the issue though, goad him into fighting.

"What *do* you want from me? A little distraction before you go running back to Methos? What do you call what happened between you and me? And what about Dawson for that matter? Just a little respite in your ongoing affair with Methos?" He countered her blow and sliced the katana at her narrowly missing her thigh.

"What I want from you is what I've always wanted, your friendship. The physical side was extra, unplanned. Special. I never planned on getting involved with anyone when I came to town. All I wanted to do was find the sword. And how dare you ask if this was all a set-up? He has no idea where I am or that I was even looking for his sword. I saw him eight months ago for the first time in 300 years. We spent a week together and then I left. He wasn't really in the mood for company while I was there." Fiona countered more of Duncan's blows and started to lose the ground she had gained in the beginning.

"Right, so you just lead me along. I'm just a lover. I fulfill your sexual needs while Joe and Methos get your heart and soul. Is that it?" He swung his sword at her yet again, this time he made contact as he sliced her thigh, causing her to stumble. He backed off for a minute to allow her to recover a moment. He really didn't want to take her but he wouldn't lie about the fact it felt good to hurt her.

"I'm not going to dignify that with an answer. You better stop now, Duncan, before you say something that can't be fixed later."

"And you think this can be fixed?" he asked twirling his sword.

"Why not?" She asked, moving out of his reach. "Neither of us has said or done anything that can't be fixed, if we can talk about this like reasonable adults."

Richie could hear their shouting through the crash of swords. He didn't like what he was seeing, they looked entirely too serious to be just sparing and blowing off a little steam. He and Fiona had gotten to be friends, she'd been teaching him to use the quarterstaff and they often went places together under the guise of her telling him he needed to broaden his outlook. He also knew the friendship she and Mac shared was important to them and would later regret it if they hurt each other now.

He picked up the phone to call Joe. It was the only thing he could think to do. he technically couldn't interfere in their battle but Dawson could and would if he knew anything about the Watcher. If anyone could talk some sense into them it would be Joe.

The machine answered. "This is Joe's. I'm not in so leave a message."

"It's Richie. Get over here now. They're going to kill each other."

He hung up the phone, watching the two fighting. They had stopped talking and instead turned circles around each other. Fiona had a slice across her hip and another across her belly. Duncan was wearing her down, trying to tire her. Richie saw her use some of the moves she taught him. They gave her the advantage but only briefly.

"Using some of *his* moves are you?" Duncan sneered.

She smiled as she tried another. This time, he was ready and the move cost her sword.

Richie ran out as her sword slid across the dojo floor. He knew he couldn't technically interfere but if he could distract them enough then maybe they would stop. *Where the hell was Dawson?*

Duncan stopped in mid swing and looked at her, then looked at the sword in his hand. He didn't like what he saw. He didn't want to hurt her. He lowered his sword and turned away. He couldn't look at her; He was too embarrassed by what had just happened. He'd let his anger get the better of him and in doing so he'd done the one thing he'd tried to teach Richie to avoid.

He'd lost the control he fought so hard to keep. He fought every day to keep his anger in check since he knew all too well how easy it was to give in to it and lose control.

Turning back toward her, Duncan started, "I'm .....".

Fiona moved forward, her wounds healing, and raised her hand to his lips to still the words. "No, we were both angry. You said some things you shouldn't have, so did I. I pushed you into fighting, beating the piss out of someone is a good way to blow off steam and resolve your anger. I knew you'd stop before you took my head." She moved closer to Duncan, placing her hands on his chest. "I know this isn't you, I don't know where it comes from but I know it isn't a part of who you are."

Duncan released his sword and let it fall where he stood. He grasped her hands and held them in place for a few moments. He released her and turned to the lift leaving the swords on the floor where they had fallen.

"Come on, let's get you a change of clothes." Duncan offered.

Fiona just nodded at him and looked down at the slashes in her sweater and jeans. Her clothing had taken a beating but she was okay and she knew Duncan would be in time.

They headed up to the loft, the three of them. Duncan pulled one of his shirts out and handed it to her as she headed to the bathroom.

Richie had brought the swords up and laid Methos's across the table. Duncan's sword he lay on a stand on his desk.

Before she stepped under the water she heard Richie leave, to find some of his sweats for her to wear. She stood under the hot water, letting it rinse away the blood. Later, when she felt the buzz again, she just assumed it was Richie returning.

Duncan stared out the window thinking, not really seeing the activity on the street below. Fiona had said she hadn't understood where his anger came from but he did. It came from a place deep inside that he refused to acknowledge. That place contained the fury he now fought against when he regained possession of his control and defeated the evil from the dark quickening. She was brave in forcing him to fight her, but she was right about the fact he would pour all his hurt and emotions into the fight with her. Their fight released a lot of the anger he had about the situation but it didn't erase the hurt he felt. Only time and an understanding of what was going on would heal that. He hoped…

He felt like he should be doing something but instead he remained by the window while she showered. That's where he was when he felt the presence of another immortal. He looked over only when the grate to the elevator rose, expecting to see Richie returning with sweatpants for Fiona and was startled to see Joe standing there.

"So where's the fire?" Joe asked as he walked in. "Richie sounded desperate on the machine."

"Joe, who-" Duncan asked, before he saw Methos step out of the elevator.

"MacLeod."

"Methos? What are you doing here?" His greeting was less than friendly. The eldest immortal was the last person he wanted to see at the moment.

Methos took no notice of Duncan's lackluster greeting and explained, "Decided I'd buried myself away long enough. I wanted to come see my friends." He smiled, with no idea of what had transpired over the past hour.

"Beer anyone?" Duncan asked, concealing his nervousness of the situation he knew would rapidly go from bad to worse any moment.

"Yeah, sounds fine," Methos answered always in the mood for a good beer, knowing that MacLeod always had a good selection of micro-brews.

"Sure," Joe replied.

Duncan gave the two men their beers and motioned for them to take a seat. Methos's progress to his favourite chair was stopped short when he spotted the sword on the table. Putting his half-empty beer down, he ignored the two Katanas with traces of blood on them and picked up the other sword from the broken leather case, turning it over in his hands while Joe and Duncan watched.

Turning toward Duncan, he asked, "Where did you get this? How did you get this? Do you have the other one?" Caressing the sword, he looked at the edges and felt for his name finding it hard to believe it was still there after all this time.

Duncan and Joe looked at one another not knowing how to answer or whether or not they should try to answer. It wasn't their story to tell and frankly MacLeod wanted nothing to do with it. They were saved when the bathroom door opened.

Duncan muttered under his breath, "Oh, great."

She walked out in his shirt, drying her hair. Without looking up she started to say, "Richie, did you bring me those..." she stopped short when she looked up and saw Methos standing, holding his sword in his hands.

All explanations could wait as she dropped the towel and strode over to him. "Damn, I wanted to surprise you," she said as she was pulled into his arms.

"Fee, what are you doing here?" he asked, holding her tightly against him.

"I could ask you the same question, but Joe has already explained you're friends," she said turning her head so his kiss landed on her cheek instead of his intended target.

Methos raised an eyebrow at her statement and her actions, wondering just what his friend had told her or she him. He knew the two of them well enough to know they just wouldn't sit down and have a conversation about him unless they were close. Very close. "Let me guess, you and Joe, ah..."

Joe chuckled, looking at Methos, shaking his head. Not that he hadn't wished it or she hadn't tried to change his mind.

"No, actually it was Duncan and me," she said sheepishly, ducking her head so he couldn't see her expression.

Methos looked up at Duncan and smiled. "I should have guessed." He'd seen MacLeod in action with women before and it really didn't surprise him she'd ended up in the Highlander's bed. Considering her lack of clothing, and her presence in the loft that should have been his first guess. I want to hear about the sword. You can fill me in on the rest later."

Methos turned back to the table and picked up the sword again. He perched on the arm of the chair and inspected the blade. He ran his hands down the surface, touching the almost faded etching. Fiona slipped into the chair behind him and sat with her feet tucked under her. While he rubbed his hand over the blade feeling the dings he put in the blade and the ones others had added, she told him how Connor had sent her to Seacouver looking for Duncan to help her find the sword, and of all the misses they had in their search until they found it by accident.

"Wait a minute, you mean to say you weren't even going to check the lead out and then Fee just said to go. One of those things you just knew, huh?" he said, turning to smile down at her.

"Something like that." She answered with a shrug.

"I always hated when you did that. So what about yours?"

"I've had it for 10 years. Connor came across it in an auction and called me."

"You have them *both*?" He looked at her, "Why didn't you tell me about it in Paris?"

"I didn't tell you about mine, because it really didn't come up. And then I decided I wanted to surprise you by finding yours and giving it back to you."

Without another word he twisted around and pulled her up into his arms, holding her tightly. "After all these years of being missing, now they are reunited." Methos surprised himself with his reaction to knowing the swords hadn't been lost all those years ago.

"Are you speaking of more than just the swords?" she asked, quietly unsure of where this was going and not sure she wanted it to continue in the vein in front of Duncan in light of what happened today.

"Yes. No. I'm just glad you are still alive." He answered the best way he could. He really didn't know what he wanted with regards to her and how she would fit into his life now.

Methos and Fiona had shut the others out of the conversation. Duncan looked on, thinking this was one odd situation. He and Fiona had been lovers until a few weeks ago and here she was letting Methos claim her. He didn't know who to be mad at first-- himself, for assuming she'd been honest in her responses to him, or her, for her deceit in the first place.

"I want to see it, your sword." Methos said.

"It's not here it's at my apartment," she told him before turning to MacLeod, "Duncan, I need some pants. Since you trashed my other ones and Richie isn't back, can I borrow a pair of sweats?" Fiona asked pushing Methos off the arm of the chair and standing.

Duncan nodded. He took a pair from the cupboard, and threw them to her. Fiona caught them and pulled them on where she stood. The long shirt hid anything she didn't want to reveal but she still looked like a lost waif in the miles too big clothing.

Methos looked between MacLeod and Fiona and then at Joe as if the Watcher would know what was going on. What did she mean? MacLeod had trashed her clothes? He had sensed some pretty strong undercurrents in the room when he arrived and wondered just what he and Dawson had missed.

"You ready?" she asked Methos as she turned to look at him. "And don't forget your duffel," she added.

Joe caught the annoyed look Duncan gave their backs. There would be trouble, he could feel it brewing. Fiona and Duncan might have settled something earlier tonight but he was sure it wasn't over by a long shot, especially since she was walking out with Methos. He knew Mac, and he was sure the Highlander had some unresolved in his feelings about Fiona. Duncan's emotions always ran deep; although he might not be in love with Fiona, he had feelings for her.

Fiona turned, looking at Joe softly, she said, "I'll see you tomorrow," then moved closer. "Thanks for being there. You've been my rock."

He hugged her tightly. "You know it was my pleasure. Take care, and take care of him." He thumbed toward Methos.

"Always," she whispered so only Joe would hear.

She turned and walked back to where Duncan stood apart from everyone and put a hand on his chest "I think we still need to talk, if not tomorrow then soon, okay? I don't want to leave things the way they are."

Duncan hesitated before accepting her gesture of peace. His normally open expression was closed and unreadable.

"Yeah, soon," was all he said.

He wasn't happy with his answer but she'd have to live with it because she knew she wouldn't get anything better tonight. Patting his chest one more time, she returned to Methos, whom she'd left standing by the lift. He nodded toward her as the elevator took them down. Duncan looked at Joe with an expression that clearly said *mind your own business*.

Methos had questions but he wasn't sure exactly where to start. Or maybe he should say, with whom. So he took the easy way out and asked about Joe. He had a feeling his fellow watcher would be the easier of the two subjects to talk about. "You and Joe looked pretty chummy back there." Methos commented as they drove to her apartment.

"You jealous?" she teased.

"No. What about MacLeod, you'd said you and he…" He wasn't even sure he wanted to know. The moment of jealousy he felt when he saw her walk out of Duncan's bathroom was uncommon for him, maybe it was because he'd just found her again recently and he was afraid he was going to lose her. It scared him a little, until he saw her look at him. He knew that regardless what other lovers they may have had in their lives, or would have in the future, they would always have something special, even as friends.

"It's over. Looking back it shouldn't have happened, but it did and now I just hope he and I can come out of it as friends," she answered a little vaguely, she really didn't want to get into it at the moment.

"So back to Joe…" He pressed a little relieved she wasn't involved with MacLeod any longer. He knew MacLeod's possessiveness and knew if Fiona and remained involved with the Highlander their relationship wouldn't be the same. Joe on the other hand…

"It could have been… I wanted it to… but he decided we should just be friends, good friends, but friends never the less…" She answered. Trying to define her relationship with Joe was hard and she suddenly understood why Duncan had a hard time with their friendship. "Why?" she asked wondering what Methos had seen.

"Just curious, I guess. We were always open about our other relationships. I thought we still could be, that's all."

She reached over and patted his leg, "Arrawn, it's scary, I feel the same ease with Joe that I have always felt with you. It's been there from the beginning and has just grown in intensity."

He contemplated her latest revelation. For the first time in all the years he'd known her, he had a feeling she'd found what she'd always wished she could have, an ordinary life. He wanted to see them together without the tension of what ever was going on when they arrived before he'd know for sure.

"You got quiet on me. You okay?" she asked.

"Sorry, just thinking."

"Well, why don't you think inside? We're here."

Methos looked at the garage apartment. How like her. Someplace tucked away and private. She would have access to a flower bed and there would be plants everywhere. He hefted his duffel and followed her up the walkway careful not to knock over the pots she had lining the path. He smiled as she let him in the door. He'd been right, plants everywhere.

She looked up at him and saw the smile. "What?"

"It's just the way I imagined it would be. Full of life," he said, dropping the duffel near the door.

"You always did know me so well," she wrapped an arm around him as he continued to take in his surroundings.

"After 600 years I would hope so. But I'm not so sure now, we've both changed so much while we were apart," he said. "I thought about it after you left Paris. I'd just been so happy to see you that I didn't really pay to much attention too the differences. Differences I can see in you know."

"Sure we've changed, but we are still the same core people we were."

They got his things settled and fixed a small dinner. After dinner they sat on the swing, on the balcony; the sun had long since set. Fiona was curled up next to Methos, his arm across her shoulders. He held her hand, and fiddled with one of the rings she still wore on her thumb.

"I'm surprised you still wear it."

"Why?"

"As much as we fought at the end 300 years ago I figured you would have thrown it in some river by now. Remember when we got them?"

She smiled thinking of that Beltane, now over 500 years ago, "As if I could forget the day I got married."

He squeezed her tightly. She was like him in a way... he was five thousand years old and had only had sixty-eight mortal wives in his long life. Fiona had only been married once. Too him. It wasn't that she hadn't had other loves, she' just never met anyone she'd really wanted to marry or spend longer than a decade with mortal and immortal alike, Methos being the exception to that rule. Too many people believed woman should be dominated and she wasn't one to be submissive to anyone.

"Samhain is the day after tomorrow. Are you still planning a celebration?"

She smiled at him. "Of course. Joe is coming over, so is Richie. Duncan's invited but after today, I'm not so sure he'll come."

"I've been meaning to ask you about what was going on."

"Oh hell, I don't know where to begin," Fiona shook her head and pushed further back into his embrace. It would be easier to tell him without having to look at him while she did. He held her as she talked. He could tell by the tone of her voice the whole thing bothered her immensely.

"You pushed him to swords?" Methos asked as she finished.

"It wasn't one of more brilliant moves, I know, but I had to see if he'd stop or if he was mad enough to kill me."

"You hate violence. Why?"

"I like my life more than I hate violence. He was very angry. You know me well enough to know I always face feelings and emotions head on. How many times in the past did I force you to look at what you were feeling? I did the same with Duncan. I am just glad he proved me right and stopped," she admitted. "I think Richie was ready to defend me if Mac had actually hurt me. He's a good kid, I know all this has been hard on him too but I think he was relieved when we stopped."

"Something tells me I should talk to Joe before going to see MacLeod."

"That would probably be a good idea."

They sat together in silence, Methos weighing what she had told him. MacLeod was angry because of his relationship with Fiona. But was that all there was? MacLeod didn't blow up like that because jealousy.

"By the way, speaking of surprises. Imagine my surprise when one night Joe and I were talking and he mentioned Sarah MacGreggor. Forget to tell me she was alive?" she teased.

"Oh hell, Fee, you've got to believe me-- I was so caught up in the fact you were there in Paris with me I completely forgot to tell you about Sarie. She showed up at the dojo looking for Duncan. I had no idea she was alive until I saw her standing there with Richie. It was good to see her again. I missed her."

"It's okay. I know how much her friendship meant to you. I can still remember the day you found me after you thought she'd been killed in Lindau. Joe and Richie have filled me in on the story of her coming to Seacouver. I'm just glad you were wrong all those years ago. I can't wait to see her again."

"I'm sure she's going to be surprised to see you in Seacouver too."

"Hey, it's late, why don't we turn in? You must be tired from your flight over today." She pulled him up and head indoors.

They took turns in the bath before they turned in. When she came out he had changed into a pair of sweat pants and sat shirtless on the bed, reading. She crawled in next to him and turned out the light. After the frenzied loving in Paris, now they simply curled up together enjoying the comfort of being together. She lay curled against his shoulder, thinking of all that had transpired in the past months; her arrival in Seacouver, her almost relationship with Joe, and her affair with Duncan... not to mention finally finding the sword. He fell asleep long before she did, and when she finally fell asleep she tossed and turned. Near dawn, she woke crying out his name and trembling.

"Shhh, Fee, it's okay. I'm here," he said, pulling her into his embrace to soothe her tears.

"The dream…" she sobbed.

"Tell me about it." He held her tight in his arms, running his hands down her back.

"Swords, blood, two people I think. That's all I can remember, everything else is hazy. I can't see the people. I can't hear the shouts, it's like some on turned off the volume. All I know is Duncan told me I wake screaming your name. I can't even tell if it's past or present." She cried, huddled in his shoulder.

"How long have you been having the dreams?" He stroked her back as she cried.

"They started shortly after I left Paris but it was only once in a while, but they have gotten worse recently. They have been more intense the past couple of months. They're really scaring me."

"We'll work it out, I promise. Go back to sleep. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

She managed to fall asleep from sheer exhaustion. Methos held her as she slept. He was worried about her. He could remember other times when she had been haunted by dreams and they usually meant something major was going to happen. He would talk to Joe in the morning: see if he had any theories. He was sure Fiona would have discussed them with Joe.

He let her sleep in, fixing breakfast for her. He had tried to call Joe but there was no answer. Fee said she was meeting Joe early afternoon so he would just go with her then.

She woke to the smell of coffee. Hmmm. Methos knew she couldn't survive without coffee in the morning. Funny how he remembered that from their short time in Paris. She rose and padded over to him as he sliced some of the bread they had made last night at dinner. She wrapped her arms around him, leaning her head on his back.

"Mmmmmm, coffee smells good," she said into his back.

Methos poured a cup of coffee for her and turned in her embrace to hand it to her. He motioned for her to sit down so he could get her the rest of her breakfast.

"I need to call Duncan and see if we can talk and then I'm meeting Joe. Are you coming with me?"

"Yes, I want to talk to Joe too."

Fiona tried to call Duncan before they ate breakfast but he wasn't picking up. Damn. She really wanted to talk and settle things. She had a feeling of urgency.

After their late breakfast, they headed to Joe's place. She wondered how Methos would feel about seeing her and Joe together; it had always bothered Duncan. Would it bother him as well?

The place was dark when they walked in, "Joe, you here?" Fee called out.

They walked across the darkened bar and headed toward the office. It was then that they heard the strains of Keiko Matsui coming from the room. Fiona knocked then opened the door.

"Joe?"

"Hey you two, come on in. Fee, you're early." He said, rising to shake hands with Methos and kiss Fiona.

Methos wondered about the use of his nickname for her. He watched the exchange between them, smiling. Two of his closest friends in the world had fallen in love and probably didn't even know it or were to busy denying it. They might try to hide it from themselves and each other but it was written all over their faces when they looked at each other. This certainly was a new development.

"Sorry, Joe, this one here wanted to talk to you so I thought I would drop him off then go and try to talk to Duncan," she said, thumbing towards Methos.

"Adam, have a seat. Fee, watch yourself, MacLeod wasn't in the best of moods when I talked with him this morning."

"No problem. Don't tell any of my secrets, you two."

They both looked at her innocently and smiled. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt they would be talking about her as soon as they were sure she was out the door.

Joe and Methos sat and got caught up on what had been happening since Alexa's death the year before. Methos had thrown himself into his role as a Watcher to the point of almost forgetting he was immortal at times. He spent hours in the library, going over old chronicles and poking into old manuscripts looking for references to himself. Joe had been worried about his friend and his lack of concern about other immortals; it could have been dangerous for him.

Methos finally asked about Duncan and what was going on between him and Fiona. He'd heard Fiona's side but he wanted another opinion on the situation, one that was hopefully unbiased. Joe filled in a few blanks but even being there first hand, he still wasn't quite sure what was up with Duncan. He could only guess it had something to do with Fiona and Methos and their relationship both past and present.

Joe'd had enough conversations with Fiona to know that the lines faded when it come to friendship and love with those two which considering the history they had it didn't surprise him. What did surprise him was the concern Methos expressed that Fiona had felt the need to push Duncan to swords, and how unlike her it was. They both knew she would rather reason than fight. What had prompted that kind of reaction from Duncan? Methos knew his friend kept a tight rein on his emotions and anger since the dark quickening.

"I've known there might be some fireworks, especially when he found out about you, but I never really expected it to go this far. Richie came by after the two of you left last night said he was afraid that Mac was going to take her head at one point. I don't know, my friend, but if I were you I would cut him a wide path for a while. At least until he gets his head screwed on straight." Joe advised.

"I'm not going to hide from him. Fiona is sure that it can be worked out. I just hope she I right." Methos stated feigning an air of confidence that he wasn't sure was warranted in light of everything.

"I hope so too. It has something to do with Fee and always has. Right from the start he was none too pleased with the idea she and I could be more than friends." Joe explained hoping maybe between them and their knowledge of both Fiona and MacLeod they could figure it out and keep things from boiling over.

Joe continued while Methos mulled over what he'd said. "My friend, she's been obsessed with finding that sword since she got here. Duncan knew the owner was someone very special to her, but I think it's thrown him some to find out after they had been lovers that someone special was you. So I imagine he's not pleased hearing the sword was yours and she knew we were friends but still kept it from him, although why he didn't figure it out for himself mystifies me it's was obvious MacLeod wasn't thinking. Of course, her walking out with you last night, without even a second thought, probably doesn't help either. Any ideas why she would keep quiet?"

"I have no idea why she was being so secretive. Could be she is just so used to keeping my secret-- but if she knew everyone knew who I was, then I don't know."

"We had a conversation the night we all met and it came out that she knew Methos and you'd once been lovers in the distant past. She was careful not to give it away she'd seen you any time in the past thousand years though."

"Yeah, she's good at that sort of thing." Methos said with a shrug knowing that she wouldn't give his secret away inadvertently and definitely not to anyone who might be a threat to him.

"She had a good teacher." Joe commented, nodding toward Methos.

"Touché."

"You two seem to be perfect for each other," Joe commented based on the similarities he'd noticed in them in just the short time he'd seen them together.

Laughing outright, Methos managed to finally spit out, "Hardly perfect. She has a wicked temper and our fights would be brutal, but then we would make up and that would be worth the fighting. But no matter what was going on between us we still cared about one another. She was my salvation more times than I can count."

Joe, curiosity aroused, asked, "What about other lovers?"

Eyebrow raised, Methos answered, "Oh we've each had our share of those. Fee was even married once." He paused, looking at Joe and wondering, "Joe, are you interested in her?" he asked quietly, already guessing the answer. He'd seen the chemistry between them, the question was would his friend admit his feelings for her to him?

Joe was a little taken back by Methos's question. "You could say that," he answered honestly.

"I thought so. If you think you need my permission to pursue it, you don't. I want to see her happy and if you're what makes her happy all the better."

"How can you be so calm about the fact I just told you I'm interested in Fiona? I've heard her stories of the two of you together, not to mention what Sarah has said about the two of you traveling together," Joe lifted his eyebrow and looked at Methos, amazed at the direction the conversation was going.

"In one form or another I will always love her, that's the way it is with us. But it doesn't change the fact there is something special growing between the two of you. Why should you forsake your happiness just because of what you perceive is between her and I?"

"For the sake of friendship."

"Joe, it's different for us. She's immortal, I'm immortal. We will have other chances if we want them. You only have now. If you want the chance you have to grasp it now. Fiona and I had our shot once and maybe in a hundred years we will again. The years have changed us both. You probably know the woman she is now better than I do."

Joe was speechless. He just looked into his beer and wondered, if there was still a chance or had all his insistences that they just be friends killed any chance for them to be together?

That was the way Fiona found them when she returned from looking for Duncan.

They turned at her approach. She walked over, placing her arms around their waists as they sat at the bar and said, "How are my two favorite guys?"

Joe looked at Methos, who nodded, before pulling her closer and saying, "I don't know about him but this one was worried. Did you find MacLeod?"

"No, I didn't. Richie hasn't seen him since last night. Maybe he went out to the island."

"Maybe," Joe replied, then added, "You ready to sing?"

"You bet, you staying?" she asked turning to look at Methos.

"I wouldn't want to miss this." It had been years since he'd heard her sing. "Sing an old one for me Fee," he requested.

Fiona nodded and followed Joe to the small stage where his guitar stood waiting for use. Methos watched as they tuned their instruments and warmed up with a few ballads. They sang the old smooth songs with ease, playing into the words; forgetting they had an audience. From the ballads they moved into some of Joe's jazzy Blues tunes, and then into her ancient songs. She sang the old songs as she did when she first sang them so long ago. Methos remembered a few of them, and one in particular.

Erin 1004

They were still in the court of Brian Boru. Fiona had charmed the King of Ireland into allowing her to entertain at court on occasion and this was one of those occasions. She was playing and singing songs of battles won and lost. As the evening wore on she grew tired and said she would sing only one more song, one of her choosing.

She chose one from before her first death that told of the real people of Erin, the Tuatha de Danaan. As she sang, a hush fell over the hall. They listened as she sang of the glory of the people and the old ways, and when she finished no one spoke, fearing to break the spell that covered the room.

Methos had never seen her looking as she did this night. He knew this was truly who she was inside, a bard, a healer, a Druid. It was without a doubt that night he fell in love with her. He had cared about her from the beginning, but this was something different entirely, and it was all because of an old song.

The silence brought him out of his memories and he looked up at them. They were in conversation, heads bent together going over some music. He again saw the ease they had with each other and even the love they were denying. He decided he'd made the right decision in telling Joe it was okay, he could see the same expression on Joe's face that he was sure had been on his when he first loved this woman. They would be good together; now all he had to do was convince them of it.

Methos had planned a special night for himself and Fiona. It would be their last night together, although Fiona didn't know that. He wanted this night to be special for them both; who knew when or if they would ever be together again? He wouldn't kid himself; seeing her reminded him of just how much he'd loved her once upon a time, and he would always love her, she was a part of him. He called her his dawn. She came and brightened his life when it seemed he always needed it most. She had been his lover then, his wife. Now she would be his friend.

They went to dinner at a Greek restaurant they had heard about and then went dancing. The music was slow and soft. They held each other close as they moved to the music. Soon it was time to go home. The couple returned to Fiona's apartment and headed for bed. He wanted to make love to her but in light of her feelings for Joe and the fact she'd just come off a relationship with Duncan that troubled her, he would just hold her instead and let her feel the comfort of familiar arms.

Methos held her as she slept. Part of him regretted his altruism in telling Joe to give a chance with Fiona. It would be harder to give her up than he imagined especially since he just found her again. They had never gone this long between being together. But like he'd told Dawson more than anything he wanted her happy and it was obvious Joe made her happy. She deserved the chance to be happy with Joe without his interference. And hell, he wanted to discover the woman she'd become in the past 300 years, to actually be her friend instead of her lover. Alexa's loss had taken a lot out of him and as much as he hated to admit it he wasn't sure he had the energy for another relationship right now, even if it was with a woman he already loved.

Morning found them curled together. Methos untangled himself from her arms and legs and went to make coffee and breakfast.

She woke to the smell of coffee for the second time in as many days. Methos had just finished breakfast as she came up from behind him, wrapping her arms around him.

"Hmmmmm, smells good," she said.

"Sit. It's ready to eat," he instructed pulling out of her embrace and pointing to the table.

They had finished breakfast before Methos worked up the courage to tell her he was moving out. He didn't want her to feel like he was deserting her with everything that was going on with her and MacLeod. Methos knew he would always be there for her and now Joe would be there too but she didn't know that, yet.

"You're moving out? Why?" She was confused.

"I figured I would stay in town for a while. Paris is just getting too full of people, and I could use a break. Besides, I want to be around friends."

"That still doesn't explain why you feel the need to move out."

"Considering what has been going on with you and MacLeod and everything else, it would probably be best not to stir the pot more than it already has. Especially if you think you can work it out with Mac."

"Don't let it go to your head, but you're right," she teased

Methos gave her a quick kiss and drew back. "Right. I need to run a few errands this morning, but I will be back by noon to help out today. OK?"

"Sure 'nuff," she said, wondering what he was up to.

Methos took off shortly after their conversation, stopping first at Joe's to tell him what he was doing and to borrow the morning paper.

He looked at a few studio apartments and lofts before he found one he liked. Like MacLeod's it consumed an entire floor of a building, the second story of a downtown building that sat near the waterfront. There was a balcony facing the water. Once he finalized the arrangements for the loft, he made phone calls to his solicitors to have some of his things shipped from Paris immediately. His journals and the chronicles always traveled with him in a trunk, which he had left at Joe's when he arrived.

Methos made it back to Fiona's by early afternoon and they spent the rest of they day together getting ready for the celebration that evening. Fiona had everything already planned out, most were things she'd done to celebrate for hundred of years. She had already talked to the owners of the property about making a fire pit for a small bonfire. They agreed and showed her a good spot for it. He put the finishing touches on the pit and prepared it for the bonfire, while she worked on the barmbrack. She forwent adding the "treasures" to the rich fruit bread, however. She knew she couldn't make the Colcannon until the last minute but she had the potatoes, cabbage, onions and butter ready.

By the time she was pulling the barmbrack out of the oven Joe and Richie arrived, laden with pumpkins for carving. Richie left the pumpkins on the porch with a pile of newspapers where they would carve them later.

"Duncan's not coming?" she asked, when she saw he wasn't with them.

"He didn't say for sure," Richie answered from the porch where he was spreading the newspaper out.

"I'm sorry," she said so quietly that Joe, who was standing closest to her, barely heard.

Joe wrapped his arm around her in an attempt to comfort her. She wore her sadness and if you knew Fiona and knew what to look for, one would know she still carried the hurt from her confrontation with MacLeod a few days earlier. She leaned into his embrace then pulled back to look between he and Methos. "He needs to be here. He needs to let go, heal, and this is the time to do it. Samhain is the time to close past difficulties. Joe, please call him, he won't answer if he hear my voice on he machine."

Joe nodded, giving her a brief squeeze, went off to call MacLeod. He wasn't sure Mac would answer if he heard his voice either but he'd try fro Fiona's sake.

"Are you sure about this?" Methos asked.

"As sure as I can be. It needs to be fixed and I know only I can do that. It all started because of me and only I can end it and I want to do it for all of you, for the friendships that were there before I came to town," she told Methos. While she was glad of some of the outcomes of her time in town with them, finding the sword and Joe, it cut her deep that she was the reason between the tension between the three men who were once good friends and were now having that friendship tested.

Joe came out onto the patio after his phone call and saw them talking and wondered about their conversation. He fought the envy he felt when he watched them. He had denied his feelings for her for so long that sometimes it was too much to be around her. Now he thought he had a chance to change that, a chance to be with her and see if she still felt the same way.

Fiona saw him watching them. "Joe, did you reach him?"

"I did. He said 'maybe'."

"I guess that's the best I can hope for. Now let's get moving, it's almost dusk. Adam, start the bonfire please. Richie, will you light the candles along the patio and the railing and the torches? Joe, hon, come help me with our dinner."

Joe and Fiona bumped around the tiny kitchen area, laughing like kids as they did. Joe worked on the mulled cider while Fiona readied the apples for baking and the caramel for caramel apples. Fiona had already made the bread that morning while Methos was off running his errands, and another loaf was ready to come out of the bread machine. The fresh bread would go nicely with the beef stew that had been simmering all day.

"Adam told me today he was moving out. How do you feel about that?" Joe asked.

"I'll miss him, of course, but after I thought about it some it sounded like a good idea. We really need to get to know one another as we are today, and not end up together out of habit," Fiona told him as she stirred the caramel. "Why do you ask?"

Joe smiled. "Curiosity, I guess. I know how you feel about the guy you remember."

"I guess you would," she said, hugging him. "There isn't much you don't know after all our talks."

"Fee, I think what I know about you isn't even the tip of the iceberg. How could anyone who hasn't been with you for all of your 1500 years know all about you? Even Methos," he said, kissing the top of her head.

"I guess you're right, but you know quite a bit about who I am now."

"Am I interrupting?" Methos asked as he came in. "If I am, I can leave again."

"No, you can stay." Joe answered.

"What's next?" Richie asked as he came in behind Methos.

"Why don't we do the Caramel apples? Grab an apple, guys." Fiona said, chuckling.

Over the course of the next hour or so they dipped their apples, laughing as they lost them in the caramel. They had an assembly line going where one would dip in caramel another would roll them in nuts before placing them on waxed paper to harden. Fiona's hands ended up covered in caramel. She would scrape the caramel off, feeding it to either Joe or Methos. Richie declined and Methos did also after the first bite, leaving Joe to take the caramel from her fingers. He did so gladly, increasing the intimacy between them. Duncan walked in time to observe the last of the caramel frivolity.

Fiona cleaned her hands, and walked over to Duncan as he stood in the doorway, as if unsure whether to come in or leave.

"Duncan, welcome," she said as she walked up to him. She stopped short and held her hands out to him, encouraging him to give her a hug.

He pulled her close for a moment then released her as he saw the others watching. "I wasn't sure I'd be welcome after..."

Fiona took his arm and said, "Of course you're welcome. Let's take a walk. Guys, why don't you get set up to do the pumpkins? We'll be back in a few minutes."

They walked along the path in silence, speaking only when they neared the fire.

"Fiona, about the other day... I don't know what happened. I just snapped. The dreams, the ending of our relationship, and then the thing with Methos and the sword, I guess it was just too much in such a short time. I'm here tonight because Joe said you wanted me to come. I'm still just not sure how I feel about all this, I'm still kind of upset about it." Duncan stared at the fire.

"Duncan," she said putting her hand on his back, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Methos, the sword and our relationship. At first I was keeping his secret, because I didn't know you. I thought about telling you after Joe figured it out and told me you all were friends but by then I didn't know how to.

"Once we became involved and the nightmares began I didn't know how to tell you without adding to the stress that was already there. I never wanted to hurt you-- please believe that. The time we had together was special and I care about you; hurting you was the last thing I wanted.

"Is it possible that we can put this behind us and regain our friendship?"

He turned to look at her. She was truly beautiful and he could see why they had all fallen under her spell. She exuded a sense of tranquility and it usually affected all around her. He finally acknowledged her question and nodded. Yes.

She wrapped her arms around him, leaning her head on his chest, "Thank you," she said before pulling back to look at him. Then, giving a gentle shove to his shoulder she said, "Now let's go carve some pumpkins."

They walked back to the apartment together, finding Joe, Methos, and Richie spreading papers and planning how they were going to carve their pumpkins. They spent the next hour carving, making faces and animals, and Fiona made a Celtic design on hers. The seeds were saved in a bowl for Fiona to deal with later. The pumpkins were placed on the step with candles in them.

Gathering their dinner they headed out to the fire. Fiona sent them out ahead of her, saying she had something she wanted to do first. Once everyone left she changed into her robes. The emerald green robe was almost an exact match for her eyes. The rich gold embroidery on the sleeves and around the neck-line set off the jewelry she wore. She chose to leave her silver torque off that night; her bangles, some as old as she, would be enough. Fiona made sure to leave an offering for the faery folk before she joined the others, also leaving treats for the children who came by trick or treating. The blankets were laid out around an old bench Methos had dragged out to the fire earlier in the day. She watched them talking and serving dinner as she approached. None of them noticed her arrival at first. Duncan was the first to look up, his quick inhale of breath alerted the others, and they turned and watched her as she approached.

She locked eyes with Methos and he just smiled at her. She knew that he recognized her robes. They may not be the same ones she'd worn almost a thousand years ago but they were close. Fiona always kept the same embroidery on all her garments. The symbolism of the Celtic knotwork around the edges and the triad circle had great meaning in her religion.

Fiona joined them and sat on the ground near Joe's feet. He gave her a knowing smile. He knew that later once everyone was gone she would have her own private ceremony to honor the night. She'd told him of her plans a few days earlier.

Methos served everyone the stew and bread and they all sat back and enjoyed their dinner. He got up as soon as some were finished eating, disappearing to the apartment. He returned carrying her dulcimer and Joe's acoustic guitar, an old twelve string. Handing them their instruments, Methos indicated they should play. Fiona moved from her spot in front of Joe to sit next to him on the bench.

They tuned their instruments to match key and talked about what to play, deciding to start with something they had been working on. Fiona begun an ancient song from before the time of her first death. Joe joined her in his deep, smoky voice. The ancient Irish song cast a spell on the evening. Fiona and Joe then played a variety of old songs Fiona had taught him plus a few new ones that he'd written. They passed the rest of the evening that way singing, talking, telling stories.

Richie sat listening to the others tell stories of past celebrations. He told them about the few happier Halloween's he had with foster families. Duncan related some of his childhood pranks as well, while Fiona told of ancient Druidic celebrations from before her first death. Joe joked with them about taking off his Watcher hat, thus allowing them to tell their stories without fear of them ending up in some chronicles.

Duncan left first, claiming he had to be up early in the morning. He said his good-byes to everyone and gave Fiona a quick hug, telling her he was glad he came.

Richie was the next to leave; Fiona knew the young man had a late date with some friends of his. They were planning to go to an after hours party at a local club. Fiona was glad he came and joined in, she and Richie had gotten to know each other well over the past few months while working on the search for the sword. They had talked about immortality and how the changes that went with passing time affected someone.

Methos begged off soon after Richie left, surprising her by leaving to go to his new place. She didn't have to know it still had to be furnished. He'd borrowed a sleeping bag and pillows from Richie so he would be set at least for the evening.

Joe and Fiona were the only ones left. They sat by the fire for a while longer talking, but mainly just sitting together and watching the fire in silence, after a while they returned to her apartment. They cleaned up the little mess and returned to porch, turning off the light as they went so all that illuminated the night was the glow from the candles. They sat together on the swing, enjoying the night. Fiona tucked into his shoulder as they watched the full moon over the horizon. Neither said anything as they sat there, words weren't necessary they just enjoyed the company of the other, and the music of the night.

Finally Joe rose, saying it was late and he had to go.

"Walk me to my car?" he asked.

Fiona walked with him down to the driveway. As they approached the car Joe stopped, turning and leaning against the hood. He put his cane a side and pulled her into his arms for a hug. Ahhh, she felt so good in his arms, he thought. Pulling back a little to look at her, he saw the desire in her eyes. She didn't bother to hide it from him, he'd known from the start she wanted to be with him. Pulling her close again he covered her mouth with his own in what started out to be a gentle kiss but turned into much more. Their desire taking over until it left them both leaning breathless against the hood of the car when it was over.

"Joe?" She asked.

"Shhh, don't say anything." He said putting his fingers to her lips, "This is just the beginning and we have all the time in the world."

"But I thought we agreed not to?"

"I had my mind changed for me. I have always wanted you but I was too busy denying it and saying it wouldn't work. Methos convinced me otherwise. I should have listened to you in the first place and we wouldn't have wasted all this time."

"Oh Joe." She said as she leaned back into him. She felt like she'd been given a second chance.

They stood like that for a long while, just holding each other and gently kissing. Joe kissed her softly one last time then turned and got into his car. Fiona stood watching him drive away.

Methos spent the next few days getting his new loft settled. The furniture he ordered had arrived and he spent time unpacking his journals from the trunks he'd dropped at Joe's when he arrived. There were still a few more boxes at the bar, but he would go back and get those later. He was living a little above Adam's means but for once he didn't care. He was in the mood for some comfort, even if it meant selling the "family" silver. He chuckled at that thought. Did Adam Pierson have family silver to sell? Well, Methos certainly did and Adam could borrow it. Damn nuisance, always having to pretend.

He hadn't seen Joe or anyone since Fee's Samhain get together, so he thought he would head over to the bar and see his friend. As he walked into the bar he heard the sound of Joe's voice as he sang.

 

"The whole situation fills me with worry.  
Cause every waking moment ...  
I dream of you.

So for now, I'll just have to survive  
And my dreams will keep your memory alive,  
One day maybe I'll make up my mind  
And the answer to my problem I'll find.

I need you...  
But I know it ain't right  
I know these feelings, I should fight.  
But every Waking moment...  
I dream of you..

That's all I do...  
Every waking moment....  
I dream about you..

Dawn to dusk, I just dream about us..  
Every dream about you baby,  
Every step I take, every moment I'm awake,

I dream about you girl  
the way it's gonna be when it's just you and me......"

 

As Joe finished, Methos stepped out from the shadows "Beautiful song, Joe."

"Adam, how long you been there?" Joe asked as he put the Hummingbird on its stand.

"Not too long, I just heard the end of the song. Have you ever sung it to her?" he asked as he moved to join Joe.

"No, I wrote it about a month after she arrived in town. We had already made our decision to be just friends and I didn't want to push the issue then."

"Have you told her how you feel about her yet?"

"Not totally. I got a message the day after Samhain from her and she's out of town for a few days, said she needed to think and time to reconnect. She said she would be back sometime this week and to keep out of trouble."

"Good. She looked like she really needed to get away when I saw her the day after Samhaim. This thing with Duncan really shook her. I know they called a truce and promised to talk, but she thinks he hasn't totally resolved everything and I know it's bothering her."

"I know it is. Adam, can I ask you some questions about Fiona?" Joe asked as they headed towards the office.

"You know you can."

They made themselves comfortable in the office, and Methos waited for Joe to ask his question. He had a good idea what it was about but he would let his friend ask, just in case he was wrong.

"Tell me about the rings."

"I had a feeling that was what you were going to ask about. We were married, handfasted if you will, during a Beltane festival roughly 500 years ago- 1460 if I remember correctly- in Ireland. In fact, it was the same grove where we met. It's funny to think of it now, it was so long ago. We had the rings made to exchange at the ceremony. Joe, she was beautiful, she positively glowed. Her hair hung loose down her back, a violet gown with her green cape flowing out around her as she walked. She had flowers in her hair and she carried a small handful of spring flowers. And her eyes. Oh Joe, they sparkled. It was one of the few times she wore the torque, given to her by her teacher, in public. It shone in the sun, it was like she held a light to her neck. I wonder if she still has it?" Methos told him, remembering the day he himself hadn't thought about in years.

"She does." Joe replied quietly. "She showed it to me once."

"Joe, does it bother you that she and I were married?" Methos asked not really considering himself still married to her.

"It probably should, but it doesn't. I figured you were anyway, I just wanted to know for sure. Thanks for telling me the truth."

"Joe, I have no reason to keep it from you." Methos said, earnestly.

The two sat quietly for a while before the topic turned to MacLeod and the problems he and Fiona were having.

"Do you think I should go talk to him?"

"I don't know, Adam. Part of me thinks it's a good idea for you to talk to him and settle things, and the other part says keep clear of him and you'll keep your head. I don't think you could help anyway. He is angry with her for not telling him the full story about you and the sword."

Methos smiled at Joe's words, he sounded like Fiona.

"What are you smiling about?"

"It's just that you sound like Fiona. She's rubbing off on you, my friend."

"I guess she is." Joe replied chuckling.

The current lull in the conversation was punctuated by Methos sensing another immortal. Figuring it was MacLeod, Methos made ready to leave. Much to their surprise, Fiona walked in the door.

"Hello, gentlemen."

"Hi, Fee." they replied almost simultaneously. Grinning at each other, they just shrugged.

Methos gave her a quick hug and headed out the door, inviting them over to his new place for drinks sometime.

"Hello, Joe," she said quietly, moving to sit near him on the sofa.

"Hi Fee." His reply was just as quiet.

Neither Joe nor Fiona said anything, both were afraid that it would break some spell that was weaving between them. Joe finally broke down and grasped her hand, bringing her fingers to his lips and kissing them. Fee leaned toward Joe as he released her hand. He pulled her forward until her cheek rested against his chest.

"Can we make it work?" she whispered against his shirt.

He barely heard her words but his heart knew the question. "I think we can. Are you willing to try?"

Barely nodding her head, she whispered, "Yes."

He pulled her closer into his arms and held her tighter. Neither moving for what seemed like an eternity. Finally Fiona pulled back and looked up at Joe. She saw the tears in his eyes and rubbed away the ones trailing down his cheek.

"Why?" she asked, as she rubbed away another.

"I really wasn't sure what your reaction would be. I was scared, nervous, you name it."

"I was scared too, that's why I left for those few days. There is too much to lose; you, and our friendship if a relationship turned out bad; Methos, if he couldn't handle my loving you. Duncan's friendship, if I haven't lost it already. But then I realized something while I was gone, something I had forgotten. I can't live my life worrying what others may think of my decisions. Even immortals can forget basic things."

"Sounds like you found your answers."

He watched the play of emotions run across her face. Seeing the desire in her eyes, he had her get up so he could stretch out on the sofa and not get her caught in his prostheses. Once that was done she lay partially on him and next to him. He pulled her petite frame up closer so she lay molded against him, claiming her mouth in a demanding kiss that left them more than breathless and completely aroused.

She broke the kiss, resting her head back on his chest, feeling his heart beating erratically under her ear and his erection pressing into her leg. Finally she looked up, she saw her desire mirrored in his eyes. "Joe."

"I know, Fee, I know."

The presence of another immortal broke the spell and Fiona tensed looking toward the door.

"It's probably Adam, he said he was going to be coming and going this morning. He's getting some stuff I stored here for him." Joe commented, knowing the expression.

"OK." She relaxed back into his arms.

"Speaking of Adam, I had a really nice talk with your husband this morning," he said chuckling.

She smiled, shaking her head. "So he told you about it? You know I was going to, today, in fact."

"It doesn't matter. I have spent some time thinking about you and Methos and myself and I realized that although I may never be what he was to you that it doesn't matter. What matters to me is that you are here with me now."

"Joe..."

He put his fingers to her lips, stilling the words that threatened to come. He knew she would protest what he said and he didn't want her to try to deny her feelings for Methos. He'd accepted that she loved the ancient immortal and he knew that she always would, but what came as a revelation to him was that he didn't care. He knew she'd be with Methos if she wanted to be and the fact she wasn't told him she was serious about a relationship with him. He wouldn't try and kid himself into thinking it wouldn't bother him sometimes but he would cross that bridge when it came. For now he was just happy she was with him.

Fiona saw his expression, and knew that he wouldn't continue the conversation. "So just what did you two talk about?"

"Oh, he told me things that you never would."

"Like?" she asked, wondering what Methos would say.

"Like how beautiful you looked walking across the glen with your cape on, how the sun gleamed off the torque you wore. How your eyes sparkled like jewels as you said your vows. Things only he would notice." He ran a finger down her nose.

"You are such a romantic." She wiggled closer to him.

"I would have to be to hang around with you immortals. Talk about romantic ideas. Let's get out of here. My legs hurt and I want to go home... with you."

"I like the sound of that," Fee said, giving him a quick kiss before standing and helping him up.

As they made their plans to go to Fiona's they had no way of knowing that the immortal Fiona had felt earlier was not Methos as they thought, but Duncan. He'd come by to talk to Joe about Fiona and Methos but stopped when he'd heard the conversation through the door.

Duncan stood at the door, listening to their conversation. So that was it! Fiona and Methos were married. The final piece of the Methos and Fiona puzzle that had started the minute she walked into the dojo six months ago. He was angry, even more than he'd been at her earlier deception. It made more sense to him now - why the sword was so damn important. Why she'd left with Methos the night he'd shown up at the loft. It even sounded like Methos had picked his successor for her attentions.

He remained there until he heard them getting ready to leave and then he slipped into the shadows of the bar. If they wanted to believe it was Methos, let them, he thought.

They drove to Fiona's, separately. That way neither of them would be left without a car. Once they arrived, Fiona unpacked her stuff while Joe went on into the apartment. She could tell by the way he moved that his legs hurt. She dumped her things near the door and went to stand in front of where he sat on her sofa.

"Come on, I know they hurt, go lie down and relax, I'll rub your legs for you," she said, holding her hands out to him.

"I want more than a leg massage," he said wickedly, as he grasped her hands.

"Oh, I know you do," she said, pulling him to his feet, "so do I, but a massage is a good place to start, don't you think?"

"I love the way your mind works, my dear." Joe whispered.

Together they walked over to the bed. Fiona turned off the lights and lit the candles next to the bed. Their shadows seemed to dance across the walls as the candles flickered in the slight breeze.

Joe sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her into his arms, suddenly nervous. Fiona leaned into his embrace, hearing his heartbeat beneath her cheek. He held her tightly for a moment before loosening his hold and leaning down to kiss her.

"Sorry, nerves. I'm okay now," he told her after, he broke the kiss.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure." His voice wavered between a purr and a growl.

Fiona leaned back and began to unbutton his shirt, exposing the silver hair sprinkled across his chest. The feather kisses she rained down his chest made him shiver in delight. When she reached the waist of his jeans she pulled the shirttails from his jeans and pushed the shirt from his shoulders, as she did she noticed the puckered pinkish scar on his shoulder.

"Joe, what's this from?" she asked as she kissed the scar.

"It's bullet wound from when I was shot last winter."

"The trial?"

He nodded.

"But I thought... I had no idea."

"It's over now and things have changed some. I really don't want to talk about it now. Besides weren't we in the middle of something?"

"Yes, I think we were," she said wickedly as she ran her hands down his chest to his belt buckle.

"Fee, wait," he said grasping her hands as she reached the buckle, he wanted her to know this - their relationship, it meant more that just sex and attraction - that for him it was love, complete and total.

"I just want you to know... I love you."

"Oh Joe, I love you too," she told him, leaning into his embrace.

He held her for a moment, breathing in the scent of her hair and enjoying the feel of her in his arms. When he released her, she returned to his belt buckle and undid it. She then released the buttons on his jeans, parting the denim as she proceeded. Her fingers lightly trailed across his skin, causing him to shudder at her touch. She had him stand so she could move the denim across his hips and off. Joe stiffened when she moved her hands to the straps of his prostheses. She'd seen him before without his artificial legs on when she'd been at his house, but this was the first time she would actually remove them and see his stumps. He knew her well enough by now to know she didn't care about his disability but his old insecurities came rushing back anyway. He pushed them back and relaxed as she looked up at him, her eyes full of love. He smiled and nodded, letting her know she could continue.

Fiona gently undid the straps and Joe handed her the key to release the suction that held his prostheses in place. She slowly slipped the plastic sleeves from his thighs. Joe breathed a sigh of relief as they came off, and Fiona leaned into kiss his legs as they were uncovered. Her kisses distracted him from his earlier nervousness. As he lay back she climbed in next to him and snuggled closer, kissing him deeply, her hands never stopping their exploration of his body. She was in search of those special places that would make him tremble.

Joe got his massage. Fiona worked the knots from his thighs with deft movements. The almond scent of the oil, combined with the flickering of the candles, added an exotic air to the night. When she felt the muscles relax she turned her touch from healing to loving. Joe noticed the change in her touch immediately and chuckled. Fee smiled at him and began her teasing kisses up his thighs until she reached his hips and pelvis. As she cupped his erection, he moved with her touch, gasping softly at the sensations she was creating. Soon Fiona's lips replaced her hand and she continued working her magic on him.. Joe's moans encouraged her on and soon she had taken him entirely in her mouth. Unable to stand any more, Joe pulled her away from his erection and up his body until she fit on top of him.

"You are a witch," Joe whispered into her neck as he nuzzled her.

Fiona felt his beard scrape against her neck as he began to kiss his way down to her shoulder. Joe rolled them so they were on their sides, pulling her leg over his hip. As his hands continued along her body, his beard brushed along her breasts as he ran his tongue across the nipple, first one side then the other. His hands moving downward as his mouth toyed with her breasts.

Fiona's gasps urged him on in his exploration. His fingers, finding her core, began their gentle rhythm bringing her closer to her climax, and as he felt her rise he would change the rhythm to take the edge off, inserting fingers into her warm core to drive her still madder.

When she could no longer stand it, she rolled him back onto his back and straddled him. She sighed at the feeling of utter completion as he slid into her depths. Fiona began the movement that would soon bring them to a shattering climax together. As they descended from their high he curled her next to him, trailing his fingers lightly down her neck, shoulder and down her back. The gentle sensation he created warmed her, spreading the feeling of love over her like a blanket. They slept like that for a while, content just to be holding on to each other.

She wondered later, when she woke, why they had decided not to do this a long time ago. What a fool she was, she loved him and probably had since the first. Maybe if she'd been more forceful six months ago the events of the past week might not have happened. Joe stirred beside her. Chasing all past thoughts from her mind, she looked up to him and smiled at the expression of complete contentment he wore.

"What do you have in the refrigerator of yours?" he said, pulling himself up.

"You're hungry? Hmmmm, me too, let's see what I can find," she answered as she climbed over him, kissing him along the way.

Joe watched her as she pulled on his discarded shirt and buttoned it. The shirt hung down to her knees and gave her that little girl lost look, but he knew all too well that she was *no* little girl, not after what she had just done to him and how she made him feel. She padded to the fridge and pulled out a fruit salad, some bread and cheeses. Stopping to grab a wine glass and the half finished bottle from the fridge, she headed back to Joe. They made a picnic on the bed, feeding each other and acting silly. When they finished all the food, Fiona moved the plate aside and returned to her spot next to Joe.

She piled the pillows behind them and as they lay back on them Joe pulled her into his arms. Fiona settled into the curve of his shoulder and lightly ran her fingers through the silver hair sprinkled across his chest. Joe drew a ragged breath as she brushed her fingers across his tight nipple. He knew she was just touching to explore, but her touch sent tendrils of warmth through his body. They spent the rest of the night lying together touching and kissing until they fell asleep wrapped around each other.

Fiona tossed and turned in her sleep. Voices and screams filled her dreams. Clashing swords. Two men fighting, and as always she stood on the sidelines watching, only this time it was different. The faces were clearer. Duncan. Methos. She screamed, "Methos!" as Duncan's sword took Methos's head.

Fiona's scream woke Joe. He gathered her in his arms and cradled her as she cried.

"Methos and Duncan, it's about them," she told him when she could speak clearly.

"The dream is about them?" he asked.

"Oh Joe, I finally saw it, the two men fighting, it's Methos and Duncan. Joe it's because of me." She jumped from the bed. "I have to stop them" she said grabbing clothes to throw on.

"How can you stop them, Fee? It's the middle of the night. They are probably home in bed." Joe asked confused.

She came back over to Joe, kissing him softly. "Joe it's happening now, that's why I was allowed to see it. I have to stop it before one of them gets killed. Can you follow me? I need to go now!"

"Go, I'll follow as soon as I can." Joe told her. "Fee, be careful...... I love you."

She heard his words and turned to run back into his arms, "I love you too." She whispered and ran back to the door.

Joe watched her leave. He was scared, probably more scared than he'd ever been in his life. He'd just watched the woman he loved walk out the door to what could be her death as well. He'd just found her, he didn't want to lose her now.

Sure, he'd been around Immortals and knew the score and knew what the waiting was like when they were fighting but he'd never loved any of them like he loved her.

Joe hauled himself up and reached for the clothes Fiona had gathered and laid at the foot of the bed for him. Pulling his boxers on, he reached for his artificial legs and strapped them on before he finished dressing. He headed out to his car as soon as he finished and pointed it in the direction of the dojo, unsure of what he'd find when he arrived.

Methos had avoided this night for quite a while now but he knew it was time to go see MacLeod. He headed to the dojo, to see his friend. They hadn't really talked privately since he'd returned to town and discovered Fiona here. Now it was time to put this whole business about her and the swords to rest. He knew it was something that Fiona would want him to do. She didn't like conflict and he knew she wouldn't be completely at peace until the whole situation was resolved.

Methos entered the dojo and found it empty. He headed for the stairs that would lead to the loft, bypassing the lift. MacLeod would feel him coming and frankly, he wanted the few extra minutes it took to climb the stairs, to clear his mind.

Duncan answered his knock with a dark expression.

Damn, there goes any hope of a reasonable conversation, Methos thought.

"Methos." MacLeod said flatly.

"MacLeod. Can I come in?"

Duncan turned, leaving Methos to follow him into the loft.

"I'd hoped we could talk."

"Well it sure took you long enough to come to me. I would have expected you to be by last week," he said sarcastically.

"Hell, you weren't exactly in the mood to entertain last week and I see you're still not," Methos retorted.

"So did you come by to plead her case?" Duncan grabbed a beer and tossed one to Methos.

Methos caught the beer and, twisting the cap open, took a seat on the sofa. "No, she can solve her own problems. I'm here to find out just what is going on here. Who are you mad at? Me? Her? Both of us? I'm confused. You've been spitting tacks at me since I walked in here last week, just after you and she took it to swords."

"How about both of you? It all just combines into one, just like you and her. Dawson's part of the equation too."

"Christ, MacLeod, she and I have known each other for nearly a millennium, do you expect there not to be some kind of bond?" Methos finished his bottle of beer and stood. "And as for Joe, it was obvious to me the minute I laid eyes on them together they were in love. Richie even said it was like that from the beginning."

"Oh, there's a bond between the two of you all right. That was evident the first moment she said the sword was yours. 'Thank you Duncan for finding the sword, Joe please call Methos so I can give it him.'," he mimicked her words, "Then she walked out with you the minute you got into town, never mind that she and I had been lovers or I might still have feelings for her. No - I'm just someone to sleep with while she accepts love and caring from you and Dawson. The clincher came this afternoon, though, I heard her and Dawson talking about the fact that you and she are married. Married for Christ's sake! Dawson can be all cavalier about it. I spent two months involved with a friend's *wife* and didn't even know it. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel? How can all of you play at this as though it were some game? It wasn't for me!" Duncan had begun to pace back and forth along the windows.

"So that's it. You're jealous. Your pride's been bruised. MacLeod, get over it. Fee and I were married over five hundred years, three hundred of which we haven't even seen each other, let alone known for sure if the other was still alive. We have had our share of other lovers. Ask her yourself MacLeod. She'll tell you the same thing. We may love one another, but it's not the same now. As for Joseph, I believe it's his decision how to handle our marriage and not for you to judge," Methos informed him as he stood near the counter and watched Duncan pace.

"Well it may not be a big deal to the both of you or Dawson but I don't like it. There have been so many lies and half truths told since she came to town, I'm not even sure what to believe any more, from you or her." Duncan, now angrier, began to swing the sword he'd picked up from its resting place.

Methos opened his jacket to gain easier access to his sword if needed. "So that's it really. We didn't keep you informed properly and now you're angry at everyone concerned, because some overblown sense of honor and honesty has been broken?"

At hearing Methos's words, MacLeod headed toward Methos and took a warning swing. Methos pulled his sword and blocked.

"Is it too much to ask your lover to be honest with you about herself?" MacLeod shouted, moving for another blow at Methos.

"How many times have you lied to a lover, or friend for that matter, to protect them from danger? Did you tell Anne everything at first? Or even Tessa? It took time to build that trust enough to tell them, didn't it? Can't you accept that might have been the reason Fiona never told you?" Methos tried to reason as he scrambled out of the way of Duncans onslaught.

"No. What I can't accept is that she goes from my bed and a week later she's in your bed and now she's probably with Dawson... she's worse than a bitch in heat." Duncan's anger made him lash out at his friend, he wanted to hurt him as he'd been hurt. It didn't matter right now that he didn't even believe the things he was saying.

Methos turned to look at Duncan with a lethal expression the likes of which no one had seen for several centuries, "Don't ever let me ever hear you say that about her again or I *will* have your head. I will *not* stand by and have you insult her that way. I can tolerate you being angry with her and me. I can tolerate you being jealous of her and Joe's relationship, but I will not tolerate you insulting her in that manner."

*So there is something that will arouse his passion, his anger* Duncan thought. Now just what did he do with the lion he'd let loose?

"So you will defend her after all? How noble of you. Her *husband* come to her rescue while she is off having sex with another man, not that many days after she walked out of here and into bed with you." Duncan taunted taking yet another swing at Methos. He connected with the older Immortals leg, and layed it open nearly to the bone.

"Not that it's any of your business, but the last time Fiona and I made love was nine months ago in Paris." He returned, as he moved away to give his leg a chance to start to heal.

Methos now felt the same kind of anger as the Highlander. He was not about to let his friend say the things about the woman he'd known for nearly a millennium. He began to push Duncan, pushing him harder than he'd ever done in their sparring matches. They moved around the loft, stumbling over pieces of furniture, overturning chairs, and tripping over the Persian rug. They hurled more comments at each another in between sword blows, each one more cutting than the one before, until finally they stopped yelling and began to fight in earnest.

Fiona, scared and trembling from her vision, drove toward the dojo, watching for any signs of a quickening; relieved that she saw none. She had run out of her place leaving Joe to follow. She hated leaving him like that.

As she parked across the street from the building she could see movement in the window. Running into the building, she used her key to unlock the lift and rode it up, afraid of what she would find at the top. She went to ready her sword then changed her mind. She knew she couldn't interfere in their conflict.

Opening the gate, she stepped out in time to see Methos move wrong and get run through by Duncan.

"STOP THIS NOW!" she yelled, as she ran in the room, dropping her sword along the way.

Both men were stunned to see her there. Neither had felt her coming, having been too intent on killing one another.

"Fee, get out of here, NOW." Methos managed to say before slipping into unconsciousness and then death. His last thought was that he'd led her into her death as well.

Duncan watched in horror as the man he'd called his friend crumbled to the floor in death at his hand. Slowly he recognized his actions and dropped his sword as if it burned him. He didn't even want to touch it for fear of the feelings it would bring back.

Fiona had ignored Methos's plea, and now turned to look at MacLeod. "Are you satisfied now? Were you going to take his head? Why not take mine too? Then when you've come to your senses and realized what a big mistake you've made and are ridden with guilt you can have Richie take your head. Then at least our quickenings will have gone to someone deserving." She spoke with controlled anger and deep sadness as she dropped to the floor to cradle Methos against her, stroking his face. Waiting...

Her words cut into MacLeod. He had been running on emotions for the better part of two weeks. He'd lost control again. He thought after his fight with Fiona the week before he'd worked through his anger but the argument with Methos fueled the hurt again. This was the last thing he wanted. He'd tried to hurt her and now he tried to kill another friend. It was all too much and he let the feelings build instead of getting rid of them. His feelings had built until for a second time he'd given into the rage he'd buried inside.

Duncan knelt next to Fiona and helped her pull Methos into her lap. She gave him a small smile of thanks, in hope that there was a chance for redemption for his actions tonight and in the past week.

Fiona sat cradling Methos, glad she'd arrived before the nightmare became reality and she lost Methos permanently.

A gasp, then another, and Methos was back with them again. He looked up and saw her as she stroked his cheek, tears running down her face. He wanted to brush them away but he wasn't completely healed and wasn't coordinated yet.

"This was it, wasn't it, Fee?" he asked, quietly, once he'd gathered his wits.

"Yes," she whispered.

"What was it?" Mac asked.

"The nightmares, Duncan. This was what the nightmares were about. Only I didn't know it until tonight," she told him quietly while she watched Methos.

"Oh God, then that was why you would call his name. I should have known." Duncan felt a deep sense of guilt for his own stupidity and jealousy and letting everything escalate to the measures it had. Duncan stood as the realization hit him.

She remained on the floor, Methos's head in her lap. She looked around at the mess the men made while trying to kill one another. The sound of the lift broke the silence. Methos moved out of Fiona's arms, aided to his feet by Duncan. Methos then reached down to pull Fiona to her feet as well.

"That will be Joe. I'm sure he's thinking he'll have to pick up whatever pieces are left." Fiona stated.

As the gate opened a weary Joe stepped out, shocked to find all three immortals still with heads intact. Fiona ran to him as soon as he stepped through the doorway. He held her tight to him.

Whispering into her hair so only she would hear, "Thank God, you're okay. I was terrified of what I would find when I got here."

"I love you," she whispered.

Turning to both men who were now standing near the counter, Joe looked at them in disgust. "You'd think two men as old as you are would know better. Just what the hell got into the two of you?"

Duncan and Methos couldn't answer they just looked at each other and silently acknowledged the war was over.

Fiona broke away from Joe's arms and moved to stand between where Joe stood near the wingback chair and where Duncan and Methos were. They watched her and wondered what was going on.

"I think I'm the answer to that question. My relationship with all of you has put friendships in jeopardy. In trying to protect one, I've hurt another. I'm sorry." Turning to Methos she walked over and touched his cheek, "I love you, Old Man, you were the light in my life and I will always love what we had together and the bond between us will always be strong." Next she turned to Duncan, and said, "I'm sorry I lied about the swords, my marriage to Methos and everything, I'm so used to keeping quiet about him that the habit is hard to break. I know I deliberately kept you in the dark, but I never wanted to hurt you. I know you don't believe me now but I do care about you."

And lastly she returned to Joe, "My love, you have brought so much happiness and joy into my life, first as a friend and now as the one I am in love with."

They stood looking at her, now certain they didn't want to know what she was going to say next.

Finally she summoned up the courage to continue, "I'm the cause of all this, and I can't stay and let the friendships the three of you have built be torn down by my presence." Running a hand down Joe's rough cheek, she kissed him before continuing, "I'm sorry Joe, that we didn't get to have our chance after all. It will be my greatest regret."

She skittered out of his arms before he could stop her, picking up her sword from where she'd dropped it and walked quickly out the door, not looking back.

Joe looked at the other two men and said simply, "You are both to blame for this. Don't bother coming around the bar any time soon. I don't have anything I want to say to either of you." He went to follow Fiona.

Methos knew that it was the anger and the hurt speaking. Duncan, however, was reminded of when the tables were turned and he'd walked away from his friendship with Joe, not once but twice. But this time he knew how Joe had felt. Their friendship was torn again as Joe struggled with the loss of the woman he'd fallen in love with and Duncan was now the one left standing alone.

Six weeks passed since Fiona walked out of their lives. It was a couple weeks before Christmas but Joe wasn't in the mood to celebrate. Duncan and Methos made their peace soon after their fight, realizing that they had made some bad decisions. They hadn't lost what he had lost, and Joe still kept his distance from both of them. They had been the ones to walk away from a friendship with him in the past now he was the one to walk away. Methos had come by to see him shortly after Fiona left and they talked some. They still had contact because of Watcher business, but he really didn't want to be near either of them, it just reminded him of what he'd lost. It was bad enough that every time he closed his eyes he saw her. At night when he went to sleep he would dream about her and the time they spent together. The night they made love and when he'd lost her was burned in his memory and replayed almost nightly since she left.

She'd gone to her home in Ireland in hopes of forgetting what she'd left behind. It didn't work. She would sit in the pubs and think of him behind his own bar, and would wonder how he was and what he was doing. She hadn't talked to any of them despite several messages her solicitor passed on to her from Methos. She knew he was trying to get in touch with her but she didn't want to hear what he had to say. She was just too depressed to even talk to her oldest friend and deal with him worrying over her.

She missed Joe and there was no other way to describe what she was feeling. He'd become as important to her as Methos had once been, and she loved him as much as she'd loved Methos. Unable to stand the heartache any longer she packed her bags and returned to Seacouver and to Joe, if he would still have her. Even if he never wanted to see her again, she still need to see him to explain and reclaim even a shred of peace in her life.

The bar was closed and Joe picked up his Hummingbird and began to play. He was so intent on his song he didn't notice the figure who walked in the door. She stood listening to the mournful song. He was hurting, and it was all her fault. He looked tired, he had circles around his eyes and the light that was always there was now gone.

He finished his song and looked up to see a dark figure in the shadows, "We're closed," he growled.

"Even to me?" she asked, stepping from the dark.

"Fiona?" He was unsure whether it was really her or just another figment of his imagination playing tricks on him again.

"Yea, it's me, I've come home if..." she never finished her sentence, the tears stopping her words.

Joe set his guitar aside and waited. He watched her as she stood there. She looked thin and unsure, so different from the woman he'd fallen in love with. Just seeing her again filled him with the love he'd tried to put away for the past six weeks. He knew he didn't want a life without her a part of it, he loved her too much to let her go a second time.

After what seemed like an eternity to her, she saw him hold his hand out to her. The simple gesture said more than words ever could. A weight was lifted from her heart. She dropped her bag and ran into his waiting arms. Her tears soaked his sweater as he held her close. She knew she'd done the right thing coming back. They could heal all the hurt together.


End file.
